Protection
by EnsignPotts
Summary: 7 years after the incident with Syndrome's robot, Violet and Dash are recruited for a special mission by the N.S. A. Violet/Mirage -Companion piece to I'm Your #1 Fan- Rated M for a sexually explicit romance between two women and dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Gosh my last Incredibles fic is getting so popular I had to hiatus some things and start this up! I really hope you enjoy this as much as the last one. This fic features a number of OCs as well as some old favorites. As always I love reviews. Bear with my minor spelling errors, I am desperate to publish and it has to be done by phone. I do my best to keep it right but we all make mistakes. Enough of my blathering- on with the Info!**

 **Protection**

 **Fandom: The Incredibles**

 **Pairing: Violet Parr/Mirage, some cute Dash/OC**

 **Rating: M**

. . .

"Hey Violet, this came for you." I look up at my coworker, Stacy, who waves a hefty manila envelope in my direction. She sets it beside my workstation where I am trying to reset the binding of an old, somewhat tattered book. I look down at the envelope, noticing the distinct lack of identifying marks. I raise a dark eyebrow in question, knowing I look exactly like my mother.

"Are you sure? It doesn't say anything on it." I pick it up, noticing the weight of the contents; it is quite heavy.

"Yes. The woman who delivered it said it was specifically for you and only you." My fingers freeze on the opening flap, much to Stacy's chagrin. "You're not going to open it?" I move to resume my work restoring the book, shaking my head.

"Who delivered it?" I have a feeling, dare I say a hope as to who it was. Stacy shrugs, palms up.

"She didn't leave a name, though she was a hell of a looker. Silver hair, nice clothes and these shoes! Violet, her shoes!" I freeze at the mention of silver but manage to feign her enthusiasm for her footwear. "Secret admirer?" She nudges my shoulder, making me blush.

"I dunno, maybe?" I sound 15 again. I half expect my hair to fall in my eyes but it won't; I cut it a long time ago. I glance at the clock; I've been in overtime for an hour now. I take the excuse to leave, gathering my supplies amd putting them away in the cabinet, initialling the return sheet. I scoop up the envelope and fix Stacy with a stern look when she tries to follow me. She laughs and holds her hands up, staying put when I leave.

I keep the envelope close to my chest against the light rain that started nearly an hour ago. I always walk home from work, I haven't wanted to drive since the incident with the RV. I don't like traffic. I fumble with my keys at the door, entering ungracefully and ignoring the grumpy mewling of my cat.

It takes me a few minutes before I can open the envelope revealing a sleek metal tablet. I push my hands into my choppy black hair. I'd asked my father once, how Mirage had contacted him. It was just like this... The letters N.S.A. appear on the screen, bright in my dimly lit apartment, before her face blooms to life before my eyes: Mirage.

She is older now, lines beginning to form upon her tan face. I can feel my cheeks grow hot; I know she can't see me but I'm still embarrassed at how giddy I am to see my teenage crush. My chest tightens when she says my name.

"I hope you are taking notes Violet Parr. This information is classified and will not be repeated." I scramble to grab a pen, using the envelope to jot my scratchy shorthand.

"There is reason to believe a dangerous individual has emigrated to Metroville." The picture changes to a very attractive olive skinned man with dark curly hair and matching beard. I can't see why he is dangerous from his appearance. I squint at him, my upturned nose wrinkling slightly.

"His name is Lukas Mandross, designation: Screwtape. We believe he is responsible for the growing number of disappearances and thefts occurring in the area." The image switches back to Mirage, her fingers laced together in front of her nose. I think she looks tired. "You may have seen these occurrances in your local newspaper." I bite my lip, waiting for what this is really about. Somehow she looks right at me. I suppress the urge to become invisible.

"After the Municiberg incident," That's what they are calling the time Nebulon nearly collapsed the entire city with his portals. "The N.S.A. began to recognize a need for selective teams of supers for temporary assignments." She sighs, as if she'd rather not go on. Once again her eyes found mine, or mine find hers...I'm not sure.

"We are extending an offer to you, Miss Parr." The sudden formality slights me, but then again she doesn't know me. I haven't seen her in 7 years. I watch her tuck her silver hair behind an ear pierced with a black diamond teardrop.

"If you accept, arrive at the following location tomorrow morning at 0600 hours. Come alone and bring nothing." The screen details the address and I jot it down. The tablet begins to smoke at the edges. I throw my hand over it, encasing the explosion in a small circular forcefield. I can't afford to lose my security deposit.

I sit down to think, turning the address over in my hands. The cat settles her generous form on my lap, yawning. I stroke her ears, staring off into space. An hour later I am picking up the phone.

"Hello?" She answers on the second ring.

"Hi mom." I clear my throat quietly. I am nervous.

"Violet! How are you?" I haven't called in a while. I hold the phone away from my ear a little. She is deaf in one ear now and louder than she means to be; courtesy of Syndrome's jet explosion. The damage showed itself much later.

"Um...I'm fine, listen I need a favor."

"Sure honey what do you need?"

"I'm taking a trip and I need someone to watch Ms. Cat."

"Where are you going?" I can hear the suspicion in her voice. The dance begins; she is difficult to lie to.

"Upstate with some friends...maybe Oregon. It's a road trip thing." She is silent for a moment.

"Yes I'll watch your cat for you. How long will you be gone?"

"A couple of weeks maybe?" I hope I sound convincing.

"Be safe Violet. I'm glad you're branching out." I feel bad...I don't really have any friends. I don't mind. Girls only want to talk about boys and I don't exactly care for boys. I have my cat and my books.

"Thanks mom, I'll leave money for food."

"You're welcome honey. I love you...so much." I freeze. She knows something is up. I've heard this before.

"I love you too." I hang up abruptly. At least she will feed my cat. I will deal with her snooping later. I look at the clock. It is a quarter after midnight. I need to sleep. I ready myself for bed, brushing my teeth carefully. It is hard to keep my mind off Mirage. I didn't think I'd ever actually see her again. I wonder if she will like what she sees; I have changed a lot. I look at myself in the mirror: too tall, too thin and messy black bangs that hang just short of my eyebrows. I sigh and click off the light, crawling into bed.

. . .

My teeth chatter in the cold morning air, hands shoved into pockets to keep them warm. The sun has not come up yet. The alley where I wait is dim amd grey; I am the first one to arrive. Footsteps set my heart racing, my body flickers before becoming transparent. I duck behind a light pole trying to conceal my still visible clothes.

A young man strides into view, a cocky smirk plastered on his familiar face. I watch my brother turn a quick circle and dust his hands triumphantly. He did always like to be first. The street lamp hits him like a limelight. He certainly looks good: solid and blocky like our father.

"Sorry Dash...I was here first." I am not about to tell him why. He pouts at me, genuinely petulant that he had not arrived first. I am a little surprised to see him but then again his speed is legendary: fastest super on record. Unofficially of course. Last year he broke the sound barrier. I offer him a warm smile. He returns it and gives me a tight squeeze. I notice his hair has grown; blonde locks pulled into a small ponytail. I give it a flick with my index finger.

"That's new." I squint my eyes shut when he toussles my hair in response.

"So is this! How are you Violet?" He steps away from me, straightening his nice coat. I keep my hands shoved in my pockets of long faded jeans, feeling a bit underdressed in my hooded swestshirt compared to his sport coat and black tie.

"Trying to be normal, you know." It's been 7 years since our family saved Metroville from Syndromecs robot...7 years of continued hiding. They are still too scared. New supers are born every day. Syndrome was right; anyone can be super. I absently push phantom hair behind my ear, the gesture automatic. "You got an invite too?" Dash nods. Before we can talk more, we are joined by a short thin girl, who yawns and rubs her eyes as she approaches. I notice Dash stand up a bit straighter. I suppress a snicker; her thinks she's cute.

"I didn't know there'd be other people here..." The girl looks at us warily. I smile for her, hoping to ease her worries. She has impossibly large blue eyes. It's hard not to stare at them.

"Did you get a message from a silver haired woman?" The girl nods. "We did too. My name is Violet, this is my brother..."

"Daaaash." He interrupts, waggling an eyebrow at her. Smooth. She leans away from him, a look of reluvision on her face. I want to laugh, really I do but I won't embarrass him.

"Uh..Petra." I shake her hand gently.

"Nice to meet you."

"If you're finished with pleasantries, we really should prepare for transport." The husky voice I dream about interrupts our introductions. I turn my head to see her but she has turned to walk away. She is all business. The three of us share a look of confusion before Petra broke away to follow. Dash gives me a playful smirk, sprinting off to catch them easily. I sighed, pushing my hand through my hair again. The sound of my feet dragging echoes off the brick alley walls.

The car we ride in is quite luxurious - I have never actually been in a limosine, not even for prom. The seats are heated; Dash cannot contain himself. He flits from empty seat to empty seat, cooing his approval. I keep my eyes on the plush dark carpet, feeling self-conscious for the first time in years. My skin flickers with faint lavender sparks. I look up and catch Mirage watching me, a look of sudden terror edging into her face. She looks away quickly, not seeing that I noticed. I turn a little pink at her scrutiny. I grab Dash as he jets up beside me.

"Sit down Dash. It's just a car."

"It's a _limosine,_ Vi. It's so cool." He looks at Mirage and Petra across from us, jabbing his thumb back at me. "Sisters." Petra giggles at him. He puffs out his chest, smiling. Mirage clears throat, drawing my attention again.

"You have all been made aware of the recent disappearances occuring in this area." I take the binder she hands me, noting the slight grip as if she doesn't want me to take it. I ignore it and flip the binder open. It is full of photographs - people of all ages and backgrounds, names and dates. "It is believed these missing people are supers or undocumented humans with super potential."

"You think this Screwface guy took them and you want us to get them back?" Dash interrupts. Its impossible for him not to. I roll my eyes, returning them to the dossiers of missing supers.

"At this time, it is unclear if Mr. Mandross _is_ responsible for these disappearances. The N.S.A has attempted to keep his whereabouts known. He moved to this area a short time before the kidnappings began. His skill set suggests this could be his handiwork."

"What is his skill set?" I decide to join the conversation; shy and timid is not who I am anymore. She doesn't look at me, not directly anyway. Fine, I'll look at her. She is clearly tired: her slate grey suit is wrinkled and rumpled in some places. Her eyes are lined, her mouth drawn, her hair less glossy and a bit frizzy near the top. Any moment I expect a yawn will creep out of her narrow chest. I try to pay attention to what she is saying.

"...vocal suggestion. He also has training in hypnosis performed with gestures or body language."

"So you're saying he can make someone do anything just by telling them to?" Petra looks worried.

"Documentation suggests that he requires a specific phrasing but essentially yes." The thought is chilling.

"What can we do about that?" I don't know what Petra can do but I can't imagine any of us can do anything to stop this man. I notice Mirage pointely avoiding looking at me, her hazel eyes on the window behind. I can't help but feel offended. I'll figure it out later.

"For now you will be taken to a training facility where you will have license to improve your particular skills. Edna Mode has been retained to outfit the three of you. You will be briefed when the time is right for you to attempt bringing Mandross into custody."

"What will you be doing?" My voice is edgy. She looks at my hair. It's a start. She seems surprised by it.

"I will be there to monitor your progress and transfer any relevant intel to you." I'm starting to think she didn't want me here. The car slows to a stop. She opens the door without another word. Dash shrugs at me and we exit the car.

The sun has come up, shining brightly over the field that surrounds us. A large wire fence bordered the newly tilled corn field. In the center, a squat concrete building sat like a fat tick sucking on the land. Mirage waited for the limo to exit the razor gate before letting us in the heavy steel door. The room beyond was white, seemingly endless, lit brightly with unseen fixtures. The space was disorienting. Mirage clapped her hands twice. The room lurched suddenly downward. Petra squeals and stumbles into Dash, who catches her deftly. Mirage chuckles at our unease.

The room stops moving. I can hear the whine of gears slowing, the muffled thud as the elevator room settled in the floor. My stomach turns a little in vertigo but I blame the seamless white walls more than the motion of the elevator. Mirage snaps her fingers and the wall slides back. She stops us before we can see into the chamber beyond, the look on her face as excited as us. She spreads her hands wide, arms a barrier to us. She takes a few steps backwards leading us towards the bright light at the end of the hallway.

"This facility was constructed here a few years ago to offer a support base to any super teams dispatched to Metroville. I am proud to serve as the Matron of this facility and took the initiative one step further." Mirage steps aside to allow us access to the chamber.

I have to rub my eyes. The interior chamber rises at least a mile above us, an enormous yellow light shining somewhere beyond my vision like a sun. The chamber was some sort of pink orange sand stone, wind blasted smooth into tunnels, doors and rooms. In the center an enormous tree grew, its trunk jutting free of a large stone web-dome. It was stunning to see the amount of care and precision that went into its creation.

"I hope to one day make this place a school for super children. A place where they can be themselves and be around others like them." The sentiment touches me. I turn my eyes from the room to something equally beautiful. She is looking towards the artificial sun, her hair framing her face perfectly. She glances over, catching me looking. She surprises me with a distracted smile.

"Let me show you around."

. . .

The facility is enormous: equipped with a greenhouse, training rooms, dormatories and a library. It was clear how proud Mirage was of her position here. I dont blame her; its truly a wonderful place to see. We walk together behind her as she leads us to our rooms. Dash nudges me when catches me watching her walk. He's the only one who knows, I trust him. I give him a light punch and wait while Mirage deposits Petra in her room and gives her a tour.

"So what do you think?" I have always valued his advice. He is much smarter than he lets on.

"I think she's hot!" He giggles, covering his mouth with both hands.

"Not that!" A sudden panic she might overhear grips me, though he very well could be talking about Petra. "About this guy?" He stops teasing me and grows serious.

"I don't know. I think it's strange that the N.S.A. recruited the two of us...especially considering how Mom felt about going back. Even more if you remember how supers are still being relocated. But maybe its because they know us and what we can do. Sometimes they come and clock my speed, just to keep tabs."

"Yeah...I don't think they worry about me so much. All I can do is disappear so that's nothing to sneeze at." I try not to be a little jealous I'm not so impressive. He gives my shoulder a squeeze

"From what I hear, you're the only super documented who can acheive total invisibility...plus there's your force fields." He knows just how to make me feel better. Mirage has returned. We follow in silence until we reach Dash's room. He gives me a wink and a thumbs up, leaving me alone to wait for her. She is gone for less than a minute this time. Dammit, Dash.

"Follow me, please." I nod and follow a little bit behind her. The silence is deafening to me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Her voice floats over to me. I scurry up to her, shoving my hands in my pockets and staring at the polished sandstone floor.

"It's so beautiful here. How long did it take to build?" My heart hammers...I'm actually talking to Mirage.

"Longer than I care to remember."

"And you're really going to turn it into a school?" I lift my eyes from the floor, tweaking my lips into a smile. She seems nervous when she nods.

"I want to. I have to make amends for the wrong I've done to supers." I'd never really thought about it before. I havent forgotten the last time I saw her in our kitchen, talking to my mother. It never occurred to me she was responsible for so many missing supers. It seems fitting that my assignment is somewhat similar. I don't know what to say. That was all before me. We stop in front of my room. I scuttle to the door, turning back to give her a smile in gratitude.

"Thank you, Mirage...for picking me." Her face grows dark and the easiness that had formed between us dissolves. She gives me a sharp nod.

"Report to the main training room tomorrow at noon. You are free to wander the facility until then." She leaves me at the door, her high heels clicking on the floor. I watch her go, fighting the urge to follow, concern nagging at my head. Something was going on with her and it had something to do with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am truly sorry about the lateness of this chapter upload. I lost my muse for a while and then life got in the way of writing. Good news is I'm settled into my new job and making a good impression. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Chapter 3 will see some real action. Stay tuned!**

My feet slam into the padded floor, pushing off hard towards the next obstacle in the course. My lungs burn, muscles beginning to ache as I press myself through a crawl tunnel. By the time I reach the end of the course, I am wheezy and weak. I hear the distant 'click' of the stopwatch. I look up at Mirage, squinting against the sweat sticking my hair to my face. She looks disappointed.

"You're too slow Violet."

"We can't all be Dash..." I mumble, trying to regulate my rough panting. I brace my hands on my knees. I am certainly out of shape. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, irritated by her ridiculous expectations.

"If you were half as fast as your brother, I wouldn't have to worry about you getting shot." I should have known she would hear me.

"Since when am I getting shot at?" I strike an argumentative pose, hands on narrow hips. I seem to have struck a nerve; she flushes red. I press on. "I've been shot st before you know? By goons. Remember?" I throw my hands forward. My forcefield is large; semi-transparent, rippling barrier. "Take a shot Mirage. You won't hit me."

"You got lucky Violet. I watched the footage. Dashiell saved yoir life when that guard found you in the water." She glares at me. "Now run it again." I groan, releasing the field and jogging back to the start of the obstacle course. She likes watching, so I'll give her a show.

I explode from the start; jumping hard over the first low wall, vaulting over the second. My sudden need to impress her gives me energy: the adrenaline is kicking in. I feel alive. The next obstacle is a rope wall. I launch myself into the net of ropes, my feet finding solid purchases instead of snarling, trapping cables. I scramble to the top, snag the waiting zipline and leap from the scaffold. The rush is intense. I try not to hollar.

I hit the mat and roll forward, mounting a stair set and sliding down the next ramp into the crawl tunnel. I emerge and vault the next wall. The last obstacle looms ahead: a large mud pit with a single rope to bridge it. I line myself up for the jump, sprinting harder than I ever have in my life. My lungs burn. My fingers clasp around the rope.

-snap-

One second I am swinging forward, the next I am flat on my back in the mud. I gasp, winded, unable to catch my breath. I start panicking when I can't breathe. My chest quakes in an effort to draw air into startled lungs. The next thing I see is Mirage, kneeling beside me.

How did she get over here so fast?

Worry floods her face when she realizes what is happening. Her hands clench and unclench, hesitating. I can't speak. I try to lift an arm to her; I need her to help me. She bends over my face, placing her lips over mine. My eyes go wide, shocked. A hard puff of air forces its way into my lungs. She leans back to check, but I am still breathless.

"Dammit Violet! Breathe!" She does it again and my lungs start working. I cough, spluttering and choking but breathing. Little spots dance across my vision. She gives a manic laugh of relief. My body hurts to much to join her. Mirage helps me to sit.

"I can take a break now?" I groan, placing a long fingered hand over my chest. She chuckles quietly, scraping the mud off my back with a gentle hand. I notice her own clothes are splotched and streaked with black, wet mud. She is wearing dark grey but her shoes are white. A flash of guilt hits me; they're ruined.

"Of course you can." Her fingers reach my neck, gentle pressure squeezing. I assume she is checking for damage. I can't stop the shiver that wracks my body when she brushes the mud from my hair. She pulls her hand away, believing she has hurt me. "I am sorry Violet. I shouldn't have been so hard on you."

"I shouldn't have been trying to show off." She helps me to my feet.

"At least you learned something." She laughs again. My heart melts. She's so beautiful.

"That you might be a good kisser?" I don't know why I said it. Maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was how she'd looked at me when I couldn't breathe. She pales and looks away, lips tight.

"Do you need help to your room?" Her response is clipped. I shake my head and mentally kick myself for the comment. She thinks no more of me than any other girl half her age. Now she probably thinks I'm creepy. I try to leave alone, but she notices my unsteady steps and links her arm with mine to support me. I blush, my head swimming.

"Thanks. So...what _did_ I learn?" I want to break the tension. I shouldn't tease her like that. She doesn't know I know about her. That's not why I came here...at least thats what I tell myself. I steal quick glances at her. She seems to have calmed down, the color returning to her face.

"There are variables you can't account for. You have to be ready for anything."

"Why do you care so much? You aren't this hard on Dash...even less on Petra." I look towards her but she keeps her eyes away. "Why are you being so weird to me?" I stop walking, forcing her to stop or drag me.

"I'm not..." Still she faces away.

"You are!" I jerk my hand away from her, balling them at my side. "All that worry and 'rescue the damsel' back there and now you won't even look at me. What gives?"

I cross my arms, wincing as the stretch hurts my back. She looks at the floor, at her ruined shoes. I huff.

"Look if this is about the 'good kisser' thing, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that I was just trying to make you laugh." Lie. She flexes her hands a few times.

"I made a promise..." She looks me in the eye and my body runs cold. "Let's just leave it there." I am over her cryptic attitude.

"To who?" I know the answer as soon as I ask.

"Helen...your mom. I contacted her as soon as your names came up in the roster. I tried to pick someone else but the new Director was insistant on you and Dash. I had a feeling you wouldn't tell her where you were really going..."

"So you ratted me out?"

"Violet this mission could be very dangerous. She asked me to keep you both safe." I am bitter that she took it upon herself to contact my mother. I wonder how long they were talking before this. I never forgot that day in the kitchen. How could I?

"Well we both know you'd do anything for _her._ " I spit the words out before I think about it. Not only did I betray my knowledge, I somehow manage to sound jealous about it. Her tan face goes white as if I have confirmed years long suspicion. I'm sure she's thought about it a lot. How could she not? She knew I was there.

"You don't know what you're talking about. I don't care what you think you saw." Her response is quiet, threatening. I let it drop; _them_ was none of my business anyway. I wasn't supposed to see. I wasn't supposed to change, but I did.

I throw my hands up and push past her towards my room. I am more hurt to know she really _didn't_ want me here.

I only came to see her.

The truth of it rings in my head like a mocking bell. I see my crush for what it is. I throw open the door to my room, slamming it shut. My body hurts.

I fall back onto the mattress, whimpering. Tears prickle the corners of my eyes. I fight them, I dont want to cry. My breathing is still a bit rattly and wheezy. Unbidden the sensation of her mouth on mine...her breath expanding my lungs floods me. I whimper again and press my hands to my eyelids.

I want to be mad at her for it but it's not her fault. She doesnt know how I feel. I resolve to bury it. I need to focus on the mission. Then I can go back to being Violet Parr: bookworm. Fatigue washes over me; already my back is getting stiff. I let myself drift off.

. . .

I open my eyes, sticky with sleep. I sit up carefully, a minor pain slowing my progress. I don't know how long I've been asleep. I notice there is a sandwich on the end table, a small, folded piece of paper under the edge of the plate. I take it, expecting it to be from Mirage.

' _I heard you fell today during your training session. Come see me if you aren't hurt too bad. - Dash P.S. It's HAM!'_

I smile and set the note aside. My stomach rumbles so I devour the sandwich, trusting that, for once, it was just a ham sandwich. My malaise has passed with the dreamless sleep of the wounded.

I head toward Dash's room. I look around the cavern, surprised at the change from day to night. The artificial sun has changed to a soft blue-white moonlight. I catch a glimmer of silver from a rock spar jutting out over the tree canopy. It seems to me a terrifying place to sit, but she is up there. I look away and continue to Dash's room. I knock three times. It takes him half a second to answer it. I know, I've clocked him.

"Hey Dash." I yelp as he scoops me up, my light frame nothing to his broad shoulders, zipping me over to the couch. I wretch when he sets me down. I hate when he does that. I tell him as much. He responds with a childish smile.

"So I bet by now you're downing on yourself, thinking about leaving and being a sorry whiner right?" i open my mouth to retort, then snap it shut in a pout. He sits beside me, curling his arm around me and drawing me close.

"I messed up Dash." I keep quiet, leaning into his side. He squeezes me tight.

"You didn't fall on purpose Violet."

"Not that." I sniff loudly. "You know that day, when Mom..." He nodded. We didn't talk about it much. "Well I brought it up. It just kinda slipped out. She told Mom we are here. She didn't pick us for this Dash."

"Well, we are here now. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. I can't exactly fight like you guys can." I remember watching Petra obliterate a training dummy with a stone fist the size of her head just the day before.

"Violet you're thinking about this wrong. You're focused on defense, invisibility and forcefields. What can you do with that offensively?"

"I don't..." He taps my head.

"All that time at your library school and you didn't learn _anything._ Look, make a forcefield maybe the size of a basketball."

"Around what?"

"Nothing, just make one in the air." I grumble at him but do as he asks, the orb glittering to life in my hands. "What have you done with these before?"

"I dunno, stop bullets I guess."

"Exactly." I wrinkle my nose at him, brows scrunched in confusion. He sighs, exaggerated drooping of his shoulders. "Physics, Vi. Come on."

"I don't see what that has to do with...OW! Dash!" He digs his knuckles into my head. I swing my hand to get back at him. I miss but the orb follows the path of my hand, striking him solidly in the cheek and knocking him down.

"Shit! Dash are you okay?" He beams up at me, giving me a thumbs up. I look at my orb, realizing what he has shown me.

"Violet, your forcefields can withstand heavy machine gun fire at close range. The question isn't 'what can you stop.'"

"It's 'what can stop me.'" I finish his thought for him. He spits out a molar, his lip bloodied from the hit. I am touched that he is willing to lose a tooth for me. I laugh at his crimson smile.

"Go to bed Vi. Mirage says she has a field assignment for us tomorrow. She says you don't have to come if you're still injured. She seems really concerned about you." I roll my eyes at the suggestion.

"Only for Mom's sake Dash." I shuffle to the door, shoulders square. I'm not going to act likd a child who didn't get what she wants. I have a lot to think about.

"Good night Violet. Main training room. 10 A.M." He gives a giant yawn. I leave his room with a new spring in my step. I am not tired after my nap. I head to the ancilliary training room: the one with the dummies.

My eyes wander to the rock spar. She is still there, long tan legs dangling over the edge. I wonder if she sees me down here. I enter the room, creeped out by the silence and the darkness that hides the dummies. I click on a single bank of lights, select a straw victim and wheel it to the center of the room.

I regard it seriously, creating my orb and letting it hang in front of me. I feel a little silly and the forcefield flickers, threatening to die, I let the feeling go. This isn't stupid. I grit my teeth and push the ball forward. I lift my hand up, raising the orb. I snap my arm down like a whip, crashing the orb into straw. The dummy exploded under the pressure of so much force. A delightfully wicked smile splits my face. I clench my hands into fists. Time to see what I can really do.

. . .

I rub my eyes sleepily, yawning hugely and covering my mouth with the back of my hand. I am the last one to show up besides Mirage; I fell into my bed sometime around 3, sweaty and renewed, baptized in the remains of so many practice dummies. Petra gives me a shy smile. I wave at her and give Dash a grateful embrace. He's the best little brother.

The sound of clicking heels draws my attention. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my resolve. I want to keep our relationship professional. It wont do to have my drooling and fawning over her like a cat in...well you know. She is making it hard. Red pencil skirt, tight white blouse and thin frame glasses I've never seen before. I feel but don't see the light shove Dash gives me. I wobble forward, losing my balance. My shoe laces are tied together. Mirage catches me in arms stronger than they look, dropping her files and scattering them across the floor. Our faces are a few inches apart. My mouth goes dry. I blush, hard. I wriggle out of her arms, a bit more roughly than I should have. I can still feel her breath on my cheek. I glare at Dash. He giggles quietly to himself. He is the worst little brother. I fix my laces while Petra helps Mirage gather her files.

"Your first assignment is fairly simple. It should give you a good opportunity to stretch your legs and utilize your training." She gives me the quickest, most surreptitious of glances. I can't breathe. "We have reason to believe the museum will be attacked tonight with the intent to steal several major artifacts." She passes out the folders in her hands.

There are photographs of five or six various things; none of the items seemes to coordinate with any of the others.

"Mandross was seen conversing with the head docent, posing as a master of restoration, claiming these items were in desperate need of repair. The docent grew suspicious and contacted local law enforcement. They in turn contacted us. They know what we are doing here."

"Couldn't Mandross simply _ask_ for the artifacts?" I ask. "The museum would have to give them to him."

"If he asked for them, it would be likely to draw press attention. Its not every day an anonymous person comes to buy priceless artifacts. I believe this is why he posed as as restorer. A buyer would draw too much attention."

I turn the pages in the file. More pictures: a group of three young adults and individual headshots. There was a tall, broad-shouldered Spanish boy with short stiff spiky black hair and a cocky smirk plastered over his dark face. Another showed a pink and purple haired Caucasian girl dressed in frills and lace. Her makeup was as loud and brash as her hair. The final picture made me shiver. A shaved headed black girl stared up at me from the photograph, her face seemed to be cut from stone: high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Her plump lips seemed to quiver nearly a snarl. A feral glow burned in her dark eyes. She was dangerous.

"Who are they?" I ask, unable to tear my eyes from the last picture.

"Armand Solidad - Blackout, electrokinetic super registered at birth." She is standing at my shoulder, one slender arm draped into my file, fingertip just brushing the picture of the Spaniard. I fight the heat creeping in my neck.

"Wendy Hamill - Banshee, enhanced vocal manipulation. A sort of sonic boom. Registered at age 14." The multicolored mess. She turns the page, arriving at the final photograph. I feel her involuntary shiver.

"Sacha Arbis - no designation, unregistered." Her voice got quiet.

"You don't know anything about her?" I try not to sound scared but the hollowness of that girl's eyes is terrifying.

"The most we know is she's a habitual violent criminal. Shes been booked three times for gang related assault. It is suspected Mandross negotiated her early release some time ago. She is a rulebreaker and a natural rebel. If she has super potential, we don't know what it is." We all got quiet for a moment.

"What are we supposed to be doing?" Petra spoke for all of us.

"You will be bolstering security. We believe these individuals have been coerced into assisting Mandross. A team of protégés like yourself. It is highly likely that this is a training mission for his team as much as it is for you. It is highly possible these artifacts are the secondary objective. It is possible their promary objective will be to engage law enforcement. You will be providing recon and keep in radio contact with each other. I will have access to the channel as well to provide you with any relevant information for the duration of the mission."

"You said we get new outfits?" Dash broke the tension with his easy humor. Mirage gave him a fleeting smile.

"Indeed I did, I will show you the armory closer to your departure time. Until then," She looks at me and my heart thumps in overdrive. Her eyes say it: _We need to talk._ "Make sure you're ready and fit for duty. You will meet me back here at 1800 hours."

I fidget as overhear Dash invite Petra to the mess hall for chowder. My stomach growls loudly. I hear a smooth, quiet chuckle and see Mirage covering her mouth with her fingertips. She waves me over to her.

"Violet."

"Mirage." We start talking at the same time. She chuckles again. The sound makes my knees quake. Her voice is soft and rich, deep for a woman but better for it.

"I'm sorry for bringing up...you know, Mom. I shouldn't have." I want to apologize first. She draws her lips tight, a weary sigh following the droop of her elegant shoulders. I fiddle nervously with my earlobe.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome here. I am quite glad you answered the call Violet." She is staring at me, not past me this time. She flushes the lightest pink. "Both of you."

I can't help the tiny smile. I can't wait to show her what I learned.

"Me too. So, fresh start then?" I hold out my hand to her, practically begging her to take it. She does, giving me the lightest squeeze. She lingers only just too long. She nods, brushing the silver curtain of hair from her beautiful pale green eyes.

"Fresh start." My stomach complains, loudly, spoiling the moment. She smiles and places a hand on my shoulder. "Go eat. Ill see you at 6 o'clock."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. The suits were tricky, but how do you improve upon Edna's perfection?!**

 **To anyone potentially offended by my description of Sacha as 'black' as opposed to 'African American.' She is not American nor African so I felt the descriptor was appropriate. Just smoothing any ruffled feathers.**

 **Also if anyone would like to have a chapter from Mirage's PoV please let me know! I've been toying with the idea but I don't want things to get confusing changing characters back and forth. Enjoy and stay tuned!**

Chapter 3

I spend the day walking around with a bowl of chowder I keep managing to refill. I am oddly starving. I think it has to do with the new way I am using my powers. I run my hands over the sandstone walls, taking everything in like a tourist. A smile quirks my face when I find the library. I haven't had much time to do anything but training. I turn in a slow circle taking in all of the books.

"It's no Alexandria but I can't say I haven't tried." Mirage's voice floats over to me from a brown leather chair. I'm a little suprised to see her, legs crossed and draped over the arm of the chair. She licks her finger and turns the page of book she's holding. She doesn't look up.

"I've always wanted a library like this." I run my fingers lovingly over elegant dark wood shelves. "Most of my books are in boxes. I don't have enough space for them all."

"I can't imagine you make much at that bookstore." She closes the book, running her fingers over the cover fondly. It must be a favorite. It looks familiar.

"I don't do it for the money." I dare a few steps closer. "What are you reading?"

"You might think less of me," She passes the book to me. It's an early edition of _Treasure Island_. "I'm partial to adventure."

"Well that much is obvious." I turn the book over. It's been restored recently, the binding fresh. I open it, fully recognizing the work when I get to the illustrations.

"Hey! I did this! The restoration." I look up at her, surprised.

"You took your time about it but the end result was worth the wait." She smiles at me.

"Funny story about that. When it came in, it was in such bad shape. I was so mad that someone would mistreat a book like that. I felt like keeping it...a rescue sort of." She looks adorably incensed. "But the more I worked on it the more I could tell whoever owned it must have really loved it. They must have had it for a long time. I knew I had to do a really good job for this person."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Not...not that I'd ever do a bad job!" I blurt, waving frantically. "Just that I knew this person would really appreciate it if I took my time and did the very best that I could."

"I did appreciate it." Her voice is low, a honeyed whisper. I blush to my ears. I don't notice that one of my hands is invisible; the one holding the book. My mouth is dry.

"Incidentally I have had it quite a long time; since I was a child. It's an old favorite."

"Me too." I squeak. Nice.

She reaches out to take the book, her fingers brushing my invisible hand. She jerks her hand back startled. The book hits the floor. We both rush forward to pick it up.

- _Smack_ -

Our heads collide. I reel backwards, all legs and elbows. I sit up, pressing a hand to my head. A sound reaches my ears. She is laughing.

"Oh. I'm sorry Violet it's just..." She bursts out in laughter again.

"Just what?"

"You look like a baby giraffe." She can't stop giggling. It's infectious. For minutes we sit there in the floor laughing like idiots. She quiets down, her gaze resting on me. I feel it like a touch. I shiver.

She bites her lip and looks away, almost shyly. She gets to her feet, offering a hand to help me up. I take it. I wait for her to let go. She doesn't seem to realize she hasn't yet. She reaches over, brushing a hand over the spot where we bumped heads. A lump is starting to form. I swallow hard. The spell is broken.

I step away, looking around for an excuse to go. I spot my empty chowder bowl and snag it gracelessly.

"I should uh...yeah get rid of this. No food around the books right?" A nervous laugh works its way out of my chest. I turn and hurry out of the room. Once in the hall I slow down, pushing back thoughts I haven't indulged in while. The sensation of her fingertips on my head lingers. Her hands are so soft. I bite my cheek and keep walking. I'm not going to jinx it. Whatever this is.

. . .

The armory is impressive; more like a museum than anything else. Case after case is filled with old super suits and gadgets, even some old villain accoutrements. Each had a delicate golden placard in front detailing the owner, their powers and the years they were active.

Along the wall on the opposite side is another display case the size and length of the wall itself. Inside were hundreds of newspaper clippings, posters and propaganda displaying the heyday of supers; articles about my parents and other supers saving the city every day. I wonder how hard it was for them to live normal lives...how did they even fall in love in the first place? There's no time between training and certain calamity.

There is a section dedicated to the Relocation Act; hard years for everyone, not just supers. I never realized it was my father who started it all, saving that man from his suicide attempt. I think so much more of him now, more than I ever have. He's always been my hero. No matter how much these humans blamed him, he only wanted to help them, to save them. Back then it was just regular criminals, men with guns, gadgets and costumes. Accidents and natural disasters. Now it's...something else.

It feels like a Holocaust exhibit. I move farther along the wall, gasping when I spot my face beaming back at me from a clipping. My family stands proudly in the photograph, accepting our minimal 'thanks for saving the city.' It's hard to believe I was only 14 when that happened. It's in a section showcasing recent supers and the good they have done since the RA. It makes me feel hopeful for whatever Mirage has planned for this place. My fingers touch the glass over my face. I find myself hoping our suits don't match.

"Was it scary?" A voice floats over to me from the left. Petra stood beside me, eyes roaming the newspaper clippings. I reach over to give her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. She flinches violently away from me.

"Hey I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your personal space." I lift my hand and step back a little. She turns red, bright against her incredibly pale skin.

"It's not your fault." She pats me awkwardly. "I'm sorry I'm just not used to people."

"That's okay," I can't help but wonder what she means by that. I remember she asked me a question. I look back at the page, the punctured carcass of Syndrome's robot looming behind us.

"Yeah. It really was." I whisper, unable to forget the feeling of that thing slamming down on me and my brother. I don't know how I held it together.

"I don't know if I can do this..." She looks at the floor.

"Don't worry Petra. This isn't anything like what happened with Syndrome."

"This is the first time I've ever done anything like this...being outside." The last two words are almost inaudible.

"You've never been outside?" That explains the skin and hair. I look at her, trying not to sound like a jerk about it. She shakes her head.

"Why not? If you don't mind talking about it?"

"My mom is agoraphobic." She seems to curl inward, my heart breaks for her. "She always told me it wasn't safe outside. That that was why my dad never came home."

"What happened to your dad?"

"He died in a freak car accident. Mom couldn't handle the stress of losing my dad and she had just had me so, I guess somewhere she broke inside." Petra whips around to face me, tears in her eyes. "She doesn't even know I'm here..."

"Sshh, its okay." I pull her close, holding her tightly. "I'll keep you safe Petra." It's a promise.

I spot Dash watching us, sitting in a chair near a curtained wall. I released Petra and walk over to him, dropping hard into the chair beside him.

"Are you excited Vi?" He is practically vibrating. I know he loves the pomp of it all. It's why he plays soccer. Professionally. I smile and give him a gentle nudge. Petra sits on his other side. A short, loud woman enters the room with Mirage in tow.

"I'm never late for anything you know that." The woman spots us and rushes over, a huge smile on her face. "Darlings! How are you?"

She seizes my cheek in a painful pinch, pulling me close to her enormous glasses.

"You've gotten so big, your mother should be proud." I lean out of her grasp, rubbing my sore cheek.

"Hi..uh Edna, right?"

"Of course, darling. You expected someone else?" She crosses her arms, looking away to pout. I turn pink.

"No, it's just we've never met before."

"Inconsequential!" She swats me, interrupting. "I made you two suits, two, without ever laying eyes on you."

Dash giggles. I feel triumph inside when she smacks him too, drawing a small black remote from inside her jacket. She pushes a button and the curtain draws back to reveal a large space encased by inches-thick glass.

"Dashiell, your suit is similar to the one I made you before." Another click of the button reveals a robotic mannequin. The suit is brilliant; red, orange and yellow with thick black stripes on the arms, legs and chest ending in tapering chevrons. The arms and legs simulate running, moving faster than I think Dash can even go. "I added a gyroscopic stabilizer to the chest to aid your balance when climbing walls or running on water. Your shoes expand to make travel easy in an arctic situation."

She clicks the remote. The benches slide quickly down the viewing area to the next suit.

"Your suit Petra, was a challenge for me. The fabric kept me awake forever I assure you." Edna peers at the girl over her glasses as if imparting the struggle she had undergone. "The end result is a nice blend that will mimic your biometrics and simulate a second skin layer to grow your stone upon. The suit is designed to withstand heavy impact to prevent transfer damage to your body, something I'm sure you struggle with now."

Edna seizes Petra's hand, tutting at the bruises across her knuckles. It never occurred to me that while Petra's stone hit the target, her fist hit the stone. It must be incredibly painful. I admire her suit, pale green with jagged cuts of light blue and darker green. It looks like a gemstone; I think it even shimmers. I find myself more than excited to see mine. The bench slides down to the end.

"Violet, I made you something like your old suit as well." The mannequin descends. My jaw drops. It's nothing like my old suit. The fabric is white with a twin spiral of lavender and violet circling around the left leg, waist and terminating at the right wrist. Her work in the fashion industry shows. "It will disappear as completely as you do. I added micro enhancers in the gloves to help you maintain your forcefield longer with less effort."

Dash can't contain himself anymore. He zips up to Edna, squeezing her in a tight hug that clearly makes her uncomfortable.

"You're amazing Edna, just the best!"

"I know, darling. I know."

. . .

"See anything yet?" My radio crackles into life, Dash's voice creeping into my ear as if he were standing next to me. I tap the side of my mask, changing the readout to night vision. It's so much more than a mask now.

"Nothing here," I reply. Petra answers similarly. It's fully dark now. We've been here for hours; Petra on the ground floor, me on the roof and Dash on the floors in between. I walk over to the edge, tapping the mask again to reset to normal vision. I watch the patrol car circle the lot for the fourth time. They're being too obvious for my liking. The air feels crackly, like just before a storm.

Everything happens all at once.

I feel the EMP hit me like a wave, disrupting all the systems in my suit. I am thankful the mask lenses are clear. I stumble a bit, yelling into my radio; it's dead. I hurtle towards the door. A deafening screech hits me before I get to the door. I fall to the ground, clapping my hands over my ears. Every exterior window shatters, raining glass onto the officers patrolling below. I feel a sticky fluid leaking from my left ear. Fuck.

I open the roof access door and dart into the stairwell. I emerge into the main foyer. Dash zips up to me, face white.

"Violet?!" He shouts, forgetting we are supposed to use codenames when the radio is out. "You..you're not going to believe this!"

I open my mouth to ask. I am answered with a bone shaking roar. He's right. I don't believe it. I'm looking at a fully grown, 500-pound Siberian tiger.

"Go! Get out of here and find Stonewall!" I shove him violently, putting myself between him and the tiger. He doesn't question me for once in his life, speeding off to find our missing teammate. I square off with the animal. Why hasn't it attacked me yet? Maybe it's under some kind of mind control? The tiger lunges, swatting the air as I just manage to skip out of the way. I run the opposite direction of Dash, hoping to draw its attention. It works.

I sail around a corner, yelling triumphantly when the beast slides on the the linoleum floor, crashing into a display case. I make it to the ground floor, looking around for my brother.

The tiger returns, landing heavily in front of me, snarling viciously. I pull back, launching an orb at the creature. I put everything into it, my mind screaming: _semi-truck, concrete, ten-ton weight._ It connects solidly with the tiger's jaw, a sickening crack resounding through the foyer. The force of the hit knockes the tiger off it's feet.

"Stonewall! Supersonic!" I shout, desperate for a reply. I still haven't seen the other two...Banshee and Blackout. My ear is ringing. They certainly made their presence known.

A sharp pain lances across my bicep claws ripping cleanly through my suit like it wasn't even there. I cry out. I hit the ground. Here I am, face to face with a tiger. Hot breath splashes across my face, heavy paws holding me to the floor. I screw my eyes shut against the ivory teeth bared at my neck. I wont go out like this.

I focus hard, forming a hard barrier between myself and the animal. It expands forcefully, throwing the tiger free before disappating. I surge to my feet, ready with another orb. I freeze at the sound I hear. The tiger is chuffing...laughing at me.

I watch, horror struck, as the creature's sleek coat roils and writhes as if filled with many unwinding snakes. The form changes: orange and black fur to deep brown skin, paws to hands and feet. I am left facing the girl in the last photograph. Sacha Arbis.

"I like the way you hit girl." Her voice is accented, thick, maybe Caribbean. She presses a hand to her bleeding lip and jaw, a twisted smile touching her face. "Not good enough girl! You have to do better than that."

Her body jerks, limbs snapping into unnatural positions. I feel like I'm getting smaller...she's getting bigger. Her dark skin gives way to thick leathery scales, powerful muscles erupting all over her expanding frame. I try not to faint when she's finished. It's too much. I hear her voice a final time before she changes completely:

"I'm gonna get you, _Violet._ " Shit.

Glass rains on me when the creature butts its head against a display near the top floor. I spot a flash of red to my left. Dash.

"No way..." I can hear him from here. I don't believe it either. It's impossible.

 _Tyrannosaurus Rex_.

I feel lightheaded, my arm bleeding badly. Strong arms lift me from the floor. It's Petra. I watch, helpless as Dash rips down a large curtain, hurtling towards the monstrous clawed feet. I try to call out to him, drowned out by the roar.

Petra is carrying me away. I try to fight her, to go back for my brother. A huge quake shakes the ground. Petra loses her footing, dropping me to the ground. Just as quickly, she lifts me again and runs. I hear the faint sounds of the chopper waiting at the rendezvous point. Petra deposits me in the helicopter climbing in quickly behind.

"We have...we have to go back." I'm panting now, trying to keep from passing out.

"Go back for what?" Suddenly Dash is sitting next to me. I cling to him, unable to hold back my sobs of relief.

"How did you get away?" The helicopter lurches upward; my stomach drops out making the creeping nausea worse.

"That building's maximum occupancy is 4400 people...not one dinosaur. It didn't fit right. I tripped it with the curtain. I doubt it can get back up again." I can't bring myself to laugh at his stupid joke. I hurt too much.

"It's Sacha...she's," I struggle against the encroaching black. My arm burns. "She's a shapeshifter."

I cling once more to Dash's arm, pleading.

"Tell...make sure you tell her," I can't finish the sentence. The darkness envelopes me, drowning out the noise of the helicopter as it bears us to safety.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 _I wake up, my eyelids sticky. Off to my right I hear a quiet, rhythmic beeping. Am I in a hospital? A slight pain in my arm reminds me. Right. I groan and try to sit up. Soft tan fingers press on my chest, pushing me back to the bed._

 _"Relax." Her voice sounds far away. I want to tell her I can't relax; not when she's this close to me. I look up at her eyes, impossibly close to mine._

 _"Mirage..."_

 _"Shhh." She doesn't take her hand away, in fact she's pressing harder on my chest. The fingers of her other hand press gently upon my lips. "I don't want you to call me that."_

 _Her lips brush my neck, whispering hot against my skin. Her mouth trails lower across my clavicle and throat. I start to pant. Her fingers move lower, teasing my breasts before curling securely around my waist. She brings her lips to hover over mine._

 _"I want to kiss you Violet." My stomach lurches, desire rolling through my whole body like wildfire. "Will you let me?"_

 _"W..What am I supposed to call you?" I am confused...does she have another name? So many things are streaking through my mind. I want her so badly it hurts. I try to close the gap between us. My lips meet the air. She leans away and I nearly cry when she looks at me, hurt._

 _"You don't remember?" Suddenly the weight is gone. She is across the room now, standing at the open door. Her back is to me. I wrack my brain, trying to remember what her name is. Where have I seen it before? How could I possibly know? She takes a step outside the room._

 _"Wait!" I cry out, lifting my hand. She looks back sadly._

 _"Wake up, Violet." She sounds so sad. I want nothing more than to remember, to shout her name and make her come back...to stop that look in her eyes. "Just wake up."_

"Mirage!" I sit up forcefully, jerking out of my dream. The machine to my right starts beeping frantically, wailing claxon in my ear. I cover my ears against the noise, surprised my left ear doesnt hurt anymore.

Within moments, the beeping is silenced. My eyes are screwed shut against the bright lights in the room. I feel delicate fingertips lowering my hand. I open my eyes slowly.

"You've ripped the IV right out. What am I going to do with you?" Mirage pushes me back onto the bed. If she thinks anything of the fact I woke up with her name on my lips, she keeps it to herself. I gasp, the dream still clinging to memory. I half expect her to put her mouth on me. I am unfairly disappointed when she doesn't. She resets the IV and I don't give her any trouble, making sure not to squirm.

"H..hey." I manage finally. She smiles fondly at me, her thin frame looming over me to check the monitor on my other side. My heart flutters at the gentle contact between her body and mine, slight as it is.

"Hey yourself." Satisfied, she sits beside me. I look over and notice the small blanket, now spread across the back of the chair. She slept here?

"How long have I been out?" I try to sit up again, but a glance from her has me right on my back again. I am thinking how wonderful it would be if she really did climb onto me and held me down while she kissed me. She touches a button on a remote and the bed inclines forward. I am grateful she wants to talk.

"About two days. The damage wasn't too serious but I kept you sedated just to be sure you wouldn't reopen the stitching." She tucks her legs underneath her. "Thank God for nanites or you'd probably be deaf."

I look down at my arm, covered in gauze. It doesn't hurt now but I'm sure it will later.

"Yeah...I was outside when Banshee hit the place." I touch the shell of my ear briefly. "I didn't know you could sew." I laugh. She smiles but it is quickly lost in a memory, turning to a deep frown that makes my chest hurt in sympathy.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. No one does." She looks out the window to the simulated landscape beyond. We are underground, all the windows are like televisions really. "I prefer it that way."

"You don't look like you like it." She fixes me with an odd look, as if no one has ever questioned her decision to be unknown, to be alone. I don't back down this time, meeting her with a challenging gaze. I never thought twice about her personally before.

She must have had a family too...dreams, wants and dislikes. I find myself needing to know. I am embarassed that I have only ever thought of her physically...a bit romantically. The dream seems so appropriate. How could I want her if I don't even know her?

"It doesn't matter." It obviously does, but I let the matter drop.

"Mirage..." For the first time I see the subtle wince at the moniker. She hates it. "About the museum..." She holds her hand up for my silence.

"Dash filled me in." I don't care what Dash said to her, she needs my input too. I grasp at her hands, my voice serious. I'm surprised at myself.

"Listen. I don't think they were there for law enforcement. I don't think they were even there to steal anything." She raises an eyebrow. Clearly Dash did a poor job 'filling her in.' That or this is just another example of my perception or whatever she said made me a leader. Time to lead now.

"I think...I think they were there for us."

. . .

Mirage frowns darkly, pushing her hands into her hair. I look her over while she interprets my assessment. She is wearing a deep blue button down and grey slacks that make her legs go forever. Those glasses rest on on the top of her head. She pulls them gently out of her hair and sets them on the bedside table. Her fingers steeple in front of her lips.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know...maybe it was the way Sacha focused on me. It just seemed too convenient. She was there to do damage." I look down at my hands. "I didn't even see the other two, which means they were providing a distraction outside so Sacha could get inside to us."

 _Unless she was already there..._

"I don't know what happened after we got out of there but I think..." I feel silly, all of this is just speculation. She leans forward, very serious.

"What do you think?"

"I think they were drawing us out," I continue quickly. "Trying to see how many and how strong we are." It makes perfect sense: Mandross publicly engaging the docent...the random list of artifacts. "I..."

"What?"

"I'm sorry things got so out of hand." I remember all the glass and busted displays. It will cost a fortune to rebuild. She puts a reassuring hand on my arm.

"You did the right thing. You kept everyone safe and that's what matters Violet. Things are things. You..." She turns red, quickly correcting herself. "People...can't be replaced."

"Yeah..." I don't take my eyes off her. She meets my gaze. Something passes between us but I don't really know what it is. She grows quiet.

"Sacha. She's a super."

"Yes, Dash and Petra mentioned that. Shapeshifter right?" I nod, fingers brushing where I had been clawed.

"Was...was Edna mad?" I ask, sheepish. A smile finally breaks her concern.

"I don't think I've ever seen her so upset before." I blanch, the heart monitor beeping wildly. She laughs quietly. "Don't worry, she's just very proud of her work. To think someone could simply cut right through it like that is baffling to her. She's more upset at herself than you. She feels responsible for your injury because her suit didn't protect you like it should."

"Well 'tiger-proof' probably isn't on her quality checklist." We share a laugh and I can't help but notice the way her hair shimmers in the bright lights. I am determined to make her laugh as often as possible. Laying in this hospital bed, hooked to all these machines makes me feel mortal. I grit my teeth, angry with myself for getting cocky before the mission. I could have been hurt much worse.

Unbidden the image of her crying over my body hits me like a truck. I ache with the weight of her responsibility. She would have to be the one to tell my parents. Then she would have to deal with my mother's blame alone. I don't think she could bear knowing my mother hated her for effectively stealing us away and then letting one of us die. I think about how Petra's mother doesn't know where she is.

"Do...do you think I could call my mom?" I ask shakily. Suddenly I miss her. But I need her to know, for Mirage's sake, that I am here by my own decision. I want to be here; all my doubts vanishing with the increased feeling that I belong here.

She seems surprised given my last reaction to contact with my mother. She nods, pointing to the small handset nearby. She stands and makes to leave to give me privacy. I mouth a silent 'thank you' and pick up the receiver.

. . .

"Hello?" She answers on the third ring.

"Hi Mom." I curl both hands around the telephone as if it will relay the hug for me.

"Oh...Violet. How's your trip going?" I can appreciate her trying to keep up my lie. I sigh deeply.

"I got hurt Mom." There's several long minutes of silence. "Mom?"

"Hey honey." It's my dad. She must have dropped the phone.

"Hi Dad."

"So, tell me why your mother ran past me just now?" He sounds tired.

"I got hurt." My voice breaks a little. I hear a door slam in the background. "Not bad, but I just...I thought I'd be honest about where I am."

"We know where you are Violet."

"I know. I just thought maybe she's appreciate hearing the truth, from me at least." I sniff a little. "Where did she go?"

"For a drive. You know how she gets when she's worried."

"Yeah..."

"Is there anything else honey?"

"Yeah." I swallow hard. "I don't want you guys blaming Mirage if...you know if something happens." I hear a quiet sigh. "Promise me Dad. It's not her fault. I chose to come here."

"I know. I did too." That reminds me.

"Hey Dad?"

"Hm?"

"Did Mirage ever tell you her name? Her real one I mean?"

"No. She never did."

"Okay. Thanks Dad."

"You're welcome Violet. I love you. We love you."

"We love you too Dad."

. . .

Mirage comes to check on me a few hours later. I don't notice her come in. I am absorbed in the book someone, _she_ , left here. _White Fang_.

"You read fast." I am about half way through it. I laugh.

"I've read it so many times." She sits in the chair and rolls over to me, glasses perched on the edge of her nose. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Checking your stitches." I set the book down and sit up straight. She removes the IV from my arm. I wince a little when the needle comes out. She starts to unwind the bandage. "So, you like to read."

"More than just reading. I love books." My eyes get all dewey just thinking about it. I look down at my arm. She frowns. Some of the stitching on the top has come loose. I must have jarred it when I woke up. She wheels away to a small cupboard, pulling out the things she needs to repair me.

"This might hurt a little bit. Talk to me. It'll distract you." She sets the needle with thread. Her fingers hover over the broken stitching.

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you love books." I feel a sharp pinch when she starts to remove the ruined threading.

"Well, Mom used to read to me all the time. All of us. I could read very early. I loved it." I feel silly telling her this kind of stuff. "I wasn't exactly Miss Popular in high school. I felt like a freak when I found my powers. Even more because I had to keep it a secret." I frown, remembering when I had been ashamed of myself, of my family.

"I spent a lot of time in the library. I could pretend to be these other people...anyone besides me." I turn my head to look at her. She is concentrating on the sewing, bottom lip captured by her top teeth. Perfect.

"When I got older I learned more about the printing process, how old writing really was. I was fascinated by the fact that mere words on a page could take me somewhere else, make me feel things, teach me something, even change my mind."

"What did you do then?" She's almost finished. I haven't taken my eyes off her.

"I went to school, for library sciences. I thought being a librarian would be a good way to preserve all that for the future."

"But?" Her eyes meet mine.

"I took a class on restoration and preservation. That was it for me." Another sharp pinch. The deed is done. She wraps my arm in fresh gauze and disconnects me from the monitors. I scratch my arm where the node was.

"It seems we have something in common." She pulls away from me. I'm still staring. "I love books for the very same reasons. That was a beautiful story Violet."

"Yeah..." She stares back. I smile dreamily. "Beautiful."

"Right." She turns bright red and I can't help the beaming smile on my face. I think I can almost see her hair frizz. "You can leave the infirmary now if you want to. No strenuous activity for a while. You're decommissioned until further notice." She stands up to leave.

"Wait." Her fingers pause on the handle. "I told you something about me. It's only fair if you tell me something about you."

She stands there for a minute, drumming her fingers against the door handle before turning to face me, arms crossed.

"Alright. What do you want to know?" I grow bold, getting to my feet and walking over to her. She frowns, raising an eyebrow at my closeness; an inch more and we would be touching. I'm just a little taller than she is so I look down at her, dropping my voice to ask my question.

"What's your name?" I look her right in the eyes, begging her silently to tell me; to trust me. I hope I haven't misread the shy glances, the lingering touches...the way she'd almost said that _I_ couldn't be replaced. She flinches visibly. My blood runs cold.

"No." She turns away and just like that she is gone.

. . .

I am sitting in the cafeteria when Dash and Petra find me huddled over a plate of scrambled eggs. I don't care that its almost 9 at night. They sit across from me, an awkward silence creeping between us. I can't take it anymore.

"I'm fine you guys. Really." I rub at the gauze. "Just a little itchy."

"Mirage looked really upset when she came out of the infirmary." Dash stabs a fork into my eggs. Petra nods in agreement. They had been headed up to see me when I had made an ass of myself. Again.

"I thought you had gangrene or something. Might lose your arm and then I'd have to feel bad for teasing you." Dash smiles around a mouthful of fork. "Anyway we decided we should give you more time to heal before we bothered you."

"We need to talk." My voice is deadly serious. I've been thinking a lot about the last mission...how woefully unprepared we were for a surprise attack. I remember what Mirage had said about variables. I push the plate of eggs over to Dash. I'm not hungry anymore. "We messed up."

"It wasn't that bad...no one got hurt and the museum isn't holding us liabl..."

"You blew my cover Dash!" I yell at him. He flinches, guilt washing over his face. I stop myself from going further, collecting my thoughts. It wont help anyone if I yell at him.

"Look _we_ messed up. We did, okay. We have to get past that and thinking everything worked out because we aren't liable for damage is not going to do us any good." I drum my fingers on the table. "I'm not going to pretend I'm not upset about this Dash. It won't take long for Mandross to figure out which super with forcefields in Metroville is named 'Violet,' even less considering we're famous."

"You think they'll go after our parents?" Petra's voice cracked, her face white in terror. I reach over and clasp her hand.

"It's a variable we can't ignore. For now only Dash and my parents are at risk. Thankfully they are supers. They won't go down easy."

"But my mom...she's not..."

"Petra, focus." I lock eyes with her. "Your mom is safe. You weren't compromised." My brows come together to convey my concern. "Okay?"

"Okay." She sniffs loudly but I am proud of her for not crying.

"We need to plan better." I lean on my elbows, pressing my chin into my hands. "We knew what they could do but we went in half cocked anyway."

"Edna is retrofitting our suits with ceramic insulation." Petra offers helpfully. I give her a smile.

"That's a good start. We need to develop some hand signs for radio silence and we need to start training together, coordinating our moves and our powers." Dash's face lights up. I am glad he isn't sulking because I yelled at him.

"Both of you will stay in sight of me. I'll be the central piece. I can see both of you and you can each see me. If one goes down, the other two will know immediately." Ideas are rapidly coming together in my head. It feels nice, being a team.

"What about when you're invisible?" Petra pipes up.

"If I need to be invisible, you two will hold your positions. I will signal you if I need to do that. You won't move until you both have visual on me or your position is compromised."

"That's really smart Violet. When did you get so good at tactics?"

"I've been thinking a lot about that ambush Dash. We can't let that happen again." Another idea rachets through my brain, half formed. "I need to talk to Edna. You two meet me tomorrow afternoon. I can't train right now, but I can figure out how you two can work together without me."

They nod vigorously. I am happy to see them accept my leadership with no arguments. I feel better than I have in a long time. I didn't even realize something was missing.

"Hey Violet?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not gonna lie Violet, I'm gonna love the scar." My lips twitch up into a smile.

"Me too Dash." I'm not lying.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm going to lobby a preemptive spoiler here and let you know about a break from canon. I decided to change Syndrome's name because of the vehemence in which he declared his name was not Buddy. I know that the idea was that he felt that he was 'Incrediboy' but I prefer a Mr. Incredible who was a bit dickish in his youth. Have a smidge of Mirage backstory. Don't worry there will be more! Enjoy and happy reading. I don't pretend to know physics, but I did a spot of research on how to protect against an EMP. I went with it.**

Chapter 5

I leave the cafeteria with renewed purpose. I might be unable to fight but I can still contribute. I am stalled by the thought that I don't know how to contact Edna Mode. I don't want to ask my parents. They are at risk enough without me contacting them again. That leaves me one option.

Mirage.

I sigh deeply, it's still a little soon but I need to do this before I lose my plans. I walk around for a while, looking without looking before I spot her in that same high place the last time we'd had an argument. I steel myself against the height. I can do this.

"Mirage?" It took me twenty minutes to get up here but I finally found the pathway. She hid it well. She doesn't look up right away, keeping her gaze out over the treetop. I walk a little closer to the edge, sitting down behind her. I notice her little blanket, _Treasure Island_ open in her lap.

"I love it up here." She says absently, almost to herself. She raises a glass to her lips, sipping the ruby liquid slowly. I peer cautiously over the side I'm closest to.

"I can see why." I totally _cannot_ see why.

"I don't want to talk about what happened earlier Violet. Let's just..." Mirage takes a long draught of her wine, finishing the glass. "Leave it alone. Don't apologize. Okay?" She turns her pale green eyes to me, full of a sadness that takes my breath away.

"I didn't come up here for that." I say quickly, wringing my hands. "I need to see Edna. Soon. Tomorrow if I can."

"Why?" She lifts a perfectly manicured silver brow.

"I have some ideas to protect against Blackout's EMP."

"I told you you're decomissioned."

"I know but I can still be useful. I've been thinking over things. We were all really underprepared and I don't want anyone to get hurt again...especially you."

"What makes you think I'm getting hurt in all this?" Her voice wobbles. I can't tell if it's emotion or the wine. I wonder if she knows how obvious her concern for me is. Maybe I'm looking for something that isn't there.

"You will. Someone will blame you for what happens." I lower my voice. "My mom will...if anything happens to me or Dash."

"I don't want to talk about that either."

"Because of her?" I get bold again. "Or because of me?" I slide closer to her. She keeps her eyes on her wine glass, jaw clenched tight. I'm not going to get an answer on this. I change the subject, hoping this moment is enough to get inside her guard.

"Why did you start working for Syndrome?" I start with something I think will be easy. I lean down to catch her gaze, pulling her upright so she isn't slouching. I think she's a little bit tipsy.

"Why do you want to know about me Violet?"

"Someone should." I lean closer, gesturing nervously. "You know everything about us. Not just my family, or Petra but all the supers. You know all of us."

"It's my job," she replies bitterly.

"I want to know _you_. The real you, not Mirage the Agent. I.." I look away, settling for this rather than nothing.

"Yes?"

"I think you deserve a friend. I know what it's like...being different." I reach for the wine to stop her pouring another glass, laying my hand over hers. I hope she understands my meaning...that we're the same and we want the same things. She pierces me with her gaze, searching for something.

"Friends." She says it like she's making up her own mind about it too. "That's all?"

I nod slowly. I can deal with friendship. There are lots of women out there. It would make me feel better if we could be close, if I knew she felt she could trust me...with knowing. With anything. She is silent for a while, gathering her thoughts. I start to give up, putting space between us and moving to a place farther from the edge. I go to stand up.

"It's because of Terri...Cascade."

. . .

I make my way back to her, sitting cross legged in front of her. I am willing to give her all the time she needs. She chuckles, quietly, gathering her thoughts before starting her story.

"I was nobody, barely in college and full of stupid dreams of travelling the world when I met her. I was a language major. I had plans to work for the government. She was wild and exciting with no plans beyond the night at hand." Her lips twitch upwards at the memory.

"I didn't know she was a super at first. She liked to keep it secret, so everyone would treat her like normal. When she told me, it was like this great trust had been put on me. It made me feel special. I think that was the point. I'd seen them before but I never thought I'd be dating one."

"Did you love her?" I ask, hesitant. She bites her lip, lowering her eyes before nodding. I reach over and squeeze her hand. "There's no shame in that."

"She made me feel things I thought I'd never feel. When she was around, everything was easy and light; nothing was serious. I was wanted. I was unique and special. I'll never forget the first thing she said to me."

I offer her a warm smile. I find myself enjoying her company, without the constant pressure of arousal or the intricate dance we had begun with each other. She frowns and I realize she isn't going to share that bit with me.

"Anyway," she continues, "We left school together and we travelled. It was amazing. I hadn't ever left my home state. She started getting restless keeping her powers in the dark. She couldn't stand knowing she had the power to change things, to fix things and doing nothing. I'll never forget the day I watched her save an old woman from being hit by a bus." Mirage smiles but barely. "She took up the mantle of a hero. We moved back to the States. I worried about her constantly."

"What happened?"

"Somewhere along the way she'd started using her celebrity to step outside our relationship. I should have known better than to think she loved me. It seemed I wasn't so special after all, that our relationship was every bit as frivilous as everything else she did. So I left her. I packed up and I disappeared. I wandered around, spending my money on anything I could get my hands on to make me forget about her."

Her story pains me. My own experience with women was awkward, alcohol fueled and never lasted the morning after. I stayed in the closet, but I made my disinterest in men pretty clear. I distracted myself with work, losing myself once more in the pages of books.

I look at her weary, sloping shoulders and realize there's nothing to distract me now. Despite my brain's decision for friendship, my body strains towards her, to hold her and show her that she can have better.

"I was surprised by the Relocation Act. I understood, but it seemed so extreme. I met a young man at a rally. He was oddly seperate from everyone else, watching instead of yelling. He had such wonderful ideas and impeccable taste in wine."

"That was him...Syndrome?"

"That was Joseph yes."

"My dad always felt bad...about getting his name wrong. He told me about it once. We found a piece of his suit in the lawn a little while after." Her face cracked with loss. I regret mentioning it now that I know he was more than just her employer. "He said that he'd lost touch with the ordinary people. He had thought so much of himself he couldn't even bother to learn a little boy's name."

"Your father is the kindest man on this Earth, Violet." I can tell she means it. An errant tan hand lifts to her throat, unconsciously stroking the spot I had once seen finger shaped bruises.

"Joey...Joseph, he offered me a job. At first it was just as his assistant. I oversaw the purchase of the island base and managed his business affairs. He kept me busy, something I'm sure he could see that I needed. It wasn't long before we trusted each other completely. After a while he started asking me to find supers." She pauses, her hands shaking. "He told me his story and I told him mine. He said that together we could change everything, undo the damage done by the separation of supers and normal people."

She pauses, taking a few deep breaths to steady her trembling hands.

"I...I used his resources. I went to her. I don't know what I expected. I think maybe part of me wanted her to wake up and see that we could still be what we were. But what I found was worse than when she'd cheated on me."

"What happened?" I can't imagine something worse than catching the woman you love in bed with someone else.

"She had a family...husband, four kids, a dog. All of it." Tears rim her beautiful eyes, spilling onto her cheeks and falling onto her blouse. "Obviously she declined the offer...she didn't even think twice before she tossed the invitation in the trash and went back to her life. It was like she had forgotten all about me...about us. At first I didn't know what he was doing with them and after that I didn't care."

A shudder wracked her shoulders as the memory set free fresh tears.

"What did she say to you...the first time you met?" I want to know it all, to take her pains and make them mine. I understand why she wants to be unknown. No one can hurt her that way. She's safe behind Mirage. A hateful laugh barks out of her chest.

"She said I was too beautiful to be real. Like..."

"A mirage." I finish for her. My face crumples in sympathy, clinging to a lost love with the only thing she has. I think she must be a glutton for punishment, keeping that nickname, using it to erase everything she used to be, everything she thought would make her vulnerable. I imagine hearing it must have given her purpose at some point, a way to justify the harm she was party to. Now it was just a painful reminder of all of it. I think back to that day in the kitchen. That was a conversation for another time. I have put her through enough. She seems to agree with me, straightening her shirt and clearing her throat.

"You said you need to see Edna." I nod quickly, allowing the moment to dissolve. "I'll call her for you tomorrow. She won't like being woken up now." I glance at my watch; it's late. I laugh quietly.

"I don't suppose she would. I should go..." I don't want to go. She nods and inhales deeply, getting to her feet. For a moment I think she's going to hug me but she settles for a squeeze of my hand.

"Thank you Violet. I do feel a bit better having shared that with you. It's not often I meet a person who can understand me."

"I know the feeling." I turn to leave. A thought hits me and I look back at her.

"Start looking into reports of strange animals or animal behavior. I wouldn't put it past Mandross to use Sacha's powers for reconnaisance as well as offense." She looks at me, surprise touching her eyes.

"That's a brilliant idea Violet. You're right. I will notify our network." I beam at her, happy to be useful for more than just my powers.

"Thank you for talking to me Mir..."I stop myself from saying it. The name has taken a new meaning for me, no longer the alluring mystery woman. "It means a lot, that you trust me. I've never had many friends...none that I know secrets about so, thank you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Violet."

As I turn to leave, I catch sight of the book again. It hits me like a truck. Her name is in the book; scribbled in the 'I belong to' margin. I keep walking, knowing it would be suspicious if I asked to see it again. I dig in with renewed purpose, spending the trip to my room formulating a plan to get my hands on _Treasure Island_.

. . .

"Wake up!" My face scrunches together under the heavy swat of a rolled up paper. "Get up you silly girl, or did you plan to waste the day away?"

"Nngg huh?" I sit up quickly, my hair sticking up at crazy angles. I cover my yawning mouth with my hand, delighting in the sound of my bones popping while I stretch.

"Eloquent as always arent we Miss Disappear." Another swat to my ears brings me to full awareness. Edna Mode is standing on my bed, brandishing her magazine like a weapon. _Italian Vogue_. No wonder it hurts so much. The use of my codename quirks my lips into a smile. I like it, a nice call back to my first moments in action. Dash giggled when I told him.

"I'm up! I'm sorry." I wave off another advance with the magazine. "Sorry she didn't say when you would be here."

"Excuses! Progress waits for no one." Edna hops off my bed and moves to the door, impatiently tapping her foot while I dress. I catch the scrutinizing look she flashes me when I pull an old sweatshirt over my lacerated arm.

"Alright let's go." I grin and follow her out the door to the armory. We don't talk while we walk, her pitter-pattering step twice as fast as mine. I shove my hands in my pockets, mind switching between my ideas for improvements.

She breezes us through security, all state of the art but nothing like what she has at home. Her little hands push against my back as I linger at the retinal scanner, fascinated by the tiny machine. I lope onward into the production area, marveling at the variety of machines available for her use.

"So you think you have improvements?" She whirls on me. I know she's not offended but she sounds like it. I set my jaw and nod sharply.

"Just ideas. I want to incorporate ceramic in more than just insulation. Is there a way to make the plate thin enough to fit between the layers of mega-mesh?" She bats at me with her tiny hands as if she's already thought of this.

"Of course! What else darling?" She grabs a small blank book and begins to sketch furiously, her eyes peering at me over the edge from time to time.

"Can you incorporate a Faraday cage into our suits? It would completely nullify an EMP except at close range." She lifts her eyes to mine, surprised.

"You've been studying physics in your spare time?" I blush a little, shrugging.

"I've been reading about electromagnetism yes. I think we could benefit from some creative thinking."

"Smart girl." Edna sets her notebook aside, lacing her fingers together and fixing me with that intense stare again, studying me.

"As for the sonic pulse, do you think it's possible for my forcefields to contain or deflect sound?"

"I don't know dear. You'd have to test that yourself."

"Can you make me something that will project a sound blast?"

"You mean a radio?" She grins at me. I feel silly.

"No not quite. Something capable of making sound a physical force." I remember it wasn't just the volume that dropped me to the ground.

"I might be able to come up with something." She gives me a look that tells me she is more than capable.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"What happened to all the technology seized from Jo..Syndrome's base?" I caught the slip just in time. She eyes me cautiously.

"Why do you need to know about that?"

"I just need some video footage. I want to try something, but I need to see how it works." Edna purses her lips, thinking. She gets up and hurries over to a file cabinet, her fingers riffling through the files until she retrieved a small black USB stick. She places it into my hand meaningfully.

"This is all of the recovered security footage as well as lab tests and result video." I smile, happy to have something to distract me for the better part of the day.

"Thank you Edna, you're..."

"The best darling, I know."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I want to start with a big thank you to my followers and fans. I never dreamed I'd be so successful especially in a fandom so small. Your consistent support has been magical.**

 **A special shout out to Magusxamus for their kind words and heartwarming reviews and Concolor44 for his unending conversation and ideas for Violet's power usage. The compactor and blade fields utilized by Violet in this/later chapters are directly inspired by him so many many thanks for being behind me in this endeavor. Next chapter will see the return of the action as well as all these gooey emotions. Enjoy the reading and stay tuned!**

Chapter 6

My back hurts from sitting hunched over my laptop, watching reel after reel of test footage. I rub my eyes and slide off my bed, needing a walk to stretch my tingling legs. I press my hand to my unruly hair but there is no flattening it. I exit my room and nearly collide with Petra.

"Oh! Violet I was just coming to see you." She squeaks, skittering nervously back and forth.

"What's up? I was just going for a walk. I thought I'd get a good look at that tree."

"I can come back later..." She turns away, sheepish. I roll my eyes and turn her back around.

"Just come with me. Walk and talk."

"Dash and I are going out today." She sounds worried.

"What for?"

"We are going to search for information at local animal shelters and Animal Control."

"I'm a little jealous. I would like to go too." I offer her a genuine smile to soothe her nerves.

"I wish you were coming too." She frowns, biting her lip furiously. "What if they attack us again? Mirage said we can't take our suits."

We have reached the tree. I place my hands on the thick trunk, feeling the warmth of it in my palms.

"You'll be fine. Mirage would have said something if there was going to be danger."

"I guess so."

"I will be on the next mission Petra. I promise." She stays quiet. "Listen would you want to help me with something?"

"Sure."

"Can you make and throw stones?"

"I don't know. I've never tried." Curiosity has replaced fear in her face and I know my job is done well. I tug her hand and lead her to an empty training room. I position her at one end of the room and take my place at the other.

"I want you to hurl a stone up into the air...kinda like a pop fly in baseball." I mime the action for her. She nods and grits her teeth ready to try. A large brace of stone surrounds her fist. The tip of her tongue peeks out as I watch the stone converge into a tightly compact sphere in the palm of her hand. She looks surprised.

"Alright. I'm ready Violet." I nod, showing her I am ready too. She hurls the stone into the air. I crane my neck watching the arc of the stone. I see my moment as the stone orb reaches it's zenith. I jab my hand forward, pointing with two fingers. The orb freezes in place, surrounded by a purple barrier. The forcefield is small, a thin tendril connecting the sphere to my hand. I concentrate shrinking the barrier until the edge touches the surface of the stone inside. I bark with laughter, Petra looking on as I move the ball around trapped in the barrier.

I give the ball a toss, releasing it. I catch it again with ease, the barrier remaining tight to the surface. I wrap my fingers around the anchor line, enjoying the slight tickling that comes with touching my own barriers. With a swift motion, I swing the ball like a flail, smashing the concrete beside Petra who clapped enthusiastically.

"How did you learn to do that?"

"I got the idea from Syndrome." I blush faintly, modest. "He had this technology, zero point energy. He used it on me once and I wondered if I could recreate that with my powers."

"Well it looks like you can!" She fidgets excitedly. "Can we try again?" I nod, pleased with her enthusiasm. We practice the exercise, each gleaning new information about our powers as we go.

"Throw me one more. I want to try one last thing." The idea emerged a few stones ago and I can't wait to try it. Petra launches the stone. I catch it with my orb field, proud that the barrier stayed flush with the stone almost instinctively now.

Instead of throwing the ball, I guide it over to me using the strand connecting to my open palm. The thread wobbles as I shorten the tether until the orb hovers just above my hand. Slowly, concentrating, I close my hand into a fist. The motion is mirrored by the orb, squeezing into the stone until it shatters into dust that tumbles to the floor.

"Whoa." Petra hurries over, looking at the dust pile at my feet. "You...you could really hurt somebody." The realization is heavy. I have the power to harm now...to kill if I had to...if I wanted to. A quiet throat clearing draws our attention. Mirage and Dash are standing at the doorway.

"Come on Petra it's time to go." Dash looks nervous too but there is no time to console him. Petra nods, giving me a bright smile and scurrying over to the pair. Mirage regards me, curious and a bit irritable.

"Let me know what you find out when you get back." I call out to Dash, ignoring Mirage as I retrieve a dummy to practice alone. She leads them away and I look back to my dummy.

Forty five minutes later, I am sitting on the floor, sweat sticking my bangs to my forehead. I drink deeply from a water bottle I found, eyeing the damage to the floor. In addition to the craters caused from the stones, a series of arc shaped scrapes surrounded the point where I had been standing. The clicking of heels draws my attention. It occurs to me suddenly that she and I are alone in the complex.

"You do know what decommissioned means right?" A chuckle accompanies the admonishment. I grin at her, sucking on the water bottle.

"I didn't know I wasn't allowed to train."

"You could reopen your wounds. I don't like stitching you up." She sinks to her knees beside me, tucking her legs underneath her and smoothing the material of her skirt over her thighs. Her gaze falls on the floor, eyes wide in shock. "What have you been doing in here?"

"Playing mostly." I lean back, palms on the concrete floor. "I spent so much time wishing I didn't have powers that I never took the time to see what they can do with them." I look sideways at her. "Do you want to see?"

She makes a show of thinking about it before she nods, enthusiasm shining in her face. I like that I can surprise her; even just a little. I grin and turn to face the ratty dummy I've been messing with. I hold my hands out, extending my fingers towards the dummy, encasing it in a tight barrier.

I change my stance, planting my feet firmly and clenching my hands into fists. I hold my arms in front of my face, bringing them together so my forearms touch. I lift my left foot and pivot. As I turn, the dummy drags along the ground, scraping the stone floor in a sweeping arc. I release the barrier and the dummy falls over from the momentum. Suddenly winded, I slump back to the floor beside her.

"I'd do more but I'm a little tired." I wheeze at her, chest heaving. She chuckles and waves her hand dismissively.

"It's quite alright. I am happy to see you taking initiative." Her eyes linger on my wounded arm. "How is your arm?"

"Holding up well since the last time you stitched it. Thank you."

"May I take a look at it?"

"Uh..well. Um..." I scratch my head when I realize that I'm not wearing anything under my sweatshirt. I hadn't exactly planned on working out today. The sleeves are too thick to push past my bicep.

"Is there a problem?" She asks innocently, making me blush furiously.

"Uh..no just well hang on." I turn my back on her. At the very least I can't see if she's watching as I quickly pull the material over my head and press it gently to my chest. "Okay." I scoot away from her as I turn back to face her, leaning my arm over towards her.

"Come here," she chirps, seizing my arm and pulling. I scoot closer, keeping my hands pressed tight to my chest. There's not much to look at, but still. I keep my head turned away, feeling the heat creep from my face to my neck as her delicate fingers trace the knitting flesh.

"So," I swallow hard. I can't help that our closeness hits me right where it counts. "When will Dash and Petra get back?" I close my eyes, biting back the whimper that threatens me as her fingers trail lower onto my arm than necessary.

I chance a glance at her. She is staring at my arm, her gaze distant, almost clouded by her thoughts. Her lips are slightly parted, her breath shallow. Her fingers continue their careful track of the curve of my shoulder down to the crook of my elbow. It seems she hasn't heard me.

"Tell me about yourself." She whispers, eyes still glassy. "I told you about my first love. What about you?"

"What about it?" I manage to say around a tongue thick with want. This isn't fair. Still she drags her fingers around my arm, her painted nails lightly scratching my skin. I hiss through clenched teeth. The sound doesn't deter her. It's almost like she's in another world.

"Just tell me."

"I don't have some grand romantic story...or even a heart break really." Her fingertips brush the bare skin of my side, just below my shoulder. A half moan dies in my throat at the contact. Her eyes flicker over to mine for the briefest of moments. I stare, losing my train of thought for a moment.

"I fell in love in high school, like most people. It didn't last with Tony."

"Why not?"

"He was too...nice, you know?" I gulp again as her hand trails down my side and back up again. I really want to pull the sweater back over my head but I can't move. "He was so sweet and respectful but at the end of the day I was keeping him from what he wanted. I didn't want to sleep with him...even though I cared about him, had waited and wished all through middle school for him to notice me. It didn't work for me."

She removes her hand quickly, suddenly aware of what she had been doing. I've never seen anyone turn that color red before. She bites her lip hard but there is a subtle sadness in her eyes, a resignation in her shoulders. A quiet sigh slips past her lips and she shakes her head. I barely hear her whisper 'stupid...stupid.' I take the opportunity to pull my sweatshirt back on.

"Anyone else after that?" She asks out of courtesy. I can tell she doesn't want to know. I wonder if it has to do with Tony, that he's a boy. I want to tell her but that's not what she asked.

"No one permanent."

The sentence weighs heavy between us, her unsure of my meaning and me trying to bore my message into her: _I want YOU._ I reach out for her hand but she scoots away from me, getting to her feet.

"Join me for lunch Violet?" She won't look me in the eye, still flush in the cheeks.

"That's okay. I still have some work to do here." I set my jaw firmly, unwilling to leap into her arms just because she touched me without thinking and invited me to lunch. I didn't expect the hurt that flashes across her face. "Maybe later?" I add hopefully.

"Yes...maybe later." She awkwardly takes her leave of me. I wait until she is out of the room before I make myself invisible. I look down at my clothes hanging in the air and curse. I'll have to be naked if I want to follow her back to her room. Her fading footsteps make the decision for me. I divest myself of my shirt and pants, tucking them away in a hidden corner of the room. Part one of my plan is in motion as I scurry after her, keeping my footsteps soft and my breathing quiet.

. . .

There is something both liberating and terrifying about creeping through empty halls, stark naked. I love doing it for a lot of reasons but the occasion doesn't present itself very often. The hallways are cool against my bare skin. I keep my distance from her so she won't hear my pattering footsteps. I learned a long time ago how to move silently but I don't trust her not to notice.

I watch her as I follow. Her arms are curled tightly around her sides, fingers pressing tightly into the folds of her suit jacket. She hangs her head low, a low mumbling just enough to reach my ears but not enough to understand.

I realize about fifteen minutes in, that she is walking out her frustration. The farther the walks, the more she mumbles until eventually she stops, standing still in a hallway I've never been in before. It's small and out of the way with no discernable doors or branches.

I linger near the hall entrance, watching as she taps lightly on the wall three times. The panel slides back and she disappears into a room I can't quite see. I stay for a few minutes to see if she is going to come back out. I leave when she doesn't, hurrying to retrieve my clothes and work on phase two of The Plan.

I make my way back to my own room, trying to keep my mind off her fingers and on my work. I sit on my bed, eyeing the laptop with some apathy. I move it gently to the floor and stretch out on the bed, tucking my hands behind my head to stop their wandering. My thoughts turn back to the way she touched me, my sudden arousal expanding on the scene. My eyelids flutter closed.

 _Her fingers trail down my side, nails raking back up and making me hiss with pleasure. Heat lances across my back, following the path of her hand. I feel the gentle pulling at the edge of my sweatshirt, inviting me to let it fall. Insistant hands run over my back._

 _"I want to see you." Her voice is pleading, needy. I give in to her, letting the shirt fall to reveal my small chest. My breath catches in my lungs at the darkening of her eyes as she takes in my thin frame. Slowly her hands move from my back, cupping my breasts gently as her thumbs brush over my nipples. I gasp, arching into her touch._

 _Her lips touch my neck, heat blooming from the point of contact, rushing down my spine between my legs. Suddenly her mouth is everywhere: my cheeks, my lips, my collarbone. I slide my hands into her fine silver hair, forcing her lips to mine. She's so soft. I whimper when I feel the tip of her tongue touch me. She deepens the kiss, lowering me to the ground._

 _Elegant fingers spread across my stomach, dusty tan skin such a contrast to my paleness. I moan, captured by her mouth, as she slides her hand lower, fingertips teasing the waistband of my pants. She pulls away from me, green eyes sparkling, asking permission. I've never wanted anything more in my life._

 _"Please..." I whimper, practically begging. I lift my hips to meet her questing hand, crying out when she reaches my core. She is inside of me, drawing out my voice with gentle languid strokes._

 _"Oh," I crane my head to look at her; her bottom lip trapped between white teeth, her hand buried in my pants. "Oh..."_

Oh who?

. . .

My eyes fly open, hurting in the sudden brightness. I growl in frustration, loud, my hands clenching the sheets tightly. I sit up, pushing my fingers into my hair. I can't help the surge of guilt that forces a sob from my lungs, eyes prickling with tears.

Fantasy ruined, I scoop up the laptop and click play on the video. Anything to distract me. I can't release myself from the quagmire of my swirling thoughts. How can I possibly love a woman I barely know? Was it only physical? All I can think about is her hands on me.

I get to my feet, slamming the door to my room and heading deeper into the complex. I shove my hands in my pockets, eyes on the floor. I count my steps, starting over at '1' every time my thoughts stray towards Mirage...or whatever her name is. I grumble angrily. How hard is it to just be herself? Why does she have to hide? She's not a super, there's nothing special about her.

I stop dead in my tracks, a cry falling involuntarily from my lips. That hurt; the image of what her face would look like if I had said that out loud. I shake my head violently to dispel it but it won't leave me. I feel like an asshole, my walk turning from frustrated power strides to the shame-laden shuffling of the chastised. Eventually my feet carry me back to my room. I sit on my bed, head in my hands.

 _I don't even know her._

 _She's attracted to me too._

 _I don't know anything about her._

 _I don't want a fling, a try-on anymore._

 _She's a lesbian too..._

 _That doesn't mean anything._

 _We could be compatible. We could be amazing._

 _I don't know her._

 _But I can._

I will.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry I've been gone so long everyone. I was participating in NaNoWriMo this year and as such things got really hectic with my work schedule. I really hope this chapter makes up for the wait.**

Chapter 7

It's early the next morning when I see her again. She's sitting in the cafeteria, frowning into a red file folder. I slink up to sit across from her, snapping the packet of instant oatmeal against my hand. She jumps. I laugh and shake the contents into my bowl of steaming water.

The mirth leaves my face when I catch a glimpse of her; she obviously didn't sleep well last night. Her eyelids are puffy, rimmed in red with dark smudges just underneath.

"Bad night?" I stir my oatmeal, waiting for it to thicken. The smell of peaches makes me happy. It reminds me of home. She pushes her hands through her hair, sighing. She rests her elbows on the table.

"An understatement to say the least." She flips a page in the folder, flicking her eyes up to meet mine. "Your brother is sloppy but Petra's information helped narrow things down."

"Can I help?" I spoon a bit of oatmeal in my mouth. She nods and hands me a few pages. I look them over; reported incidents of dog attacks around the city. Nothing stood out to me. I narrow my eyes at the documents, looking for a pattern or something odd.

"This is only dog attacks..." I flip them over and back again. "Sacha could be anything. I doubt she's staying one shape for any length of time." She sighs heavily again, resting her cheek on her hand. I nudge my oatmeal towards her. She takes the spoon, stirring absent-minded.

"Wait..." I hunch over the documents, my eyes scanning the complaintants rather than the incident details. "This person...M. Polinski." I flip the page so she can read it, my finger skimming the lines.

"No record of attack...just a strange dog sighted on the property." She scrunches up her nose, taking a bite of oatmeal. "It seems Animal Control sent someone out to set traps but nothing came up."

"Look though, this person has called more than a dozen times in half as many months. Always the same complaint." I take the spoon back, not really caring that we are sharing my breakfast. I can't help but enjoy the easy domesticity despite the general tension between us. "They feel like this animal is watching them...stalking them. If you were Animal Control..."

"I'd think they were crazy." Her eyes light up at the revelation. I nod vigorously.

"These dates are fairly close together." I skim the document again noting three consecutive days where the person called about the mystery animal. The last is dated yesterday. "We need to go talk to them. Today."

"We need more time than that..." She is hesitant, her eyes landing on my scarred bicep.

"We don't have more time." I give her my best determined face. She simply stares back at me. "What we do have is a name, an address and someone who needs our help."

"I'll do what I can." I don't believe her. I can tell she is reluctant to send me back into the field.

"Come find me when you find something out." I scoop up the remains of my breakfast, committing the address to memory. Just in case.

I spend a few hours watching combat instruction videos, mirroring the images on the screen until I am sweaty and feeling thoroughly pleased with my progress. I grin at my reflection in the mirror, flexing muscles just starting to define themselves. Shower time.

I am drying my hair when there is a knock at the door. I throw the towel around my body and run to check the peep hole, hoping it isn't Dash. It's Mirage. I think about it for half a second before I open the door, ankles still dripping on the carpet.

"Violet I..." She trails off, openly staring. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing, smile twisting my lips between my teeth. There is a barely audible catch in her breathing, color high in her cheeks and throat. Her eyes travel my entire body until she meets my eyes and realizes she's been caught staring.

"Sorry I was just getting out of the shower." I muss my hair with one hand, holding the towel together with the other. I just want to remind her what she's fighting against.

"I can see that." Her voice is raspy. She clears her throat but doesn't look away from my face this time, though her composure threatens to crack any second now. "I came to tell you I found some things out about M. Polinksi."

"Let me get dressed. Do you want to come in or would you rather wait out here." I lift an eyebrow at her.

"It wouldn't look good..." Her eyes flicker away.

"Who's here to see? Come on, I have seperate rooms." I reach out and take her by the hand, pulling her inside. She looks back once, somewhat fearful before I distract her with pushing her to sit on the bed. "Wait here okay? Talk to me if you're nervous. I won't take long."

I collect the small stack of neatly folded clothes I set aside to dress in and head towards the bathroom. I leave the door open so I can hear her better.

"So what did you find out?" I call out to her, giving my hair one final tussle with the towel. It looks cute messy.

"I thought the name sounded familiar so I checked the N.S.A personnel files first. I turned up a hit. She's a scientist. Security Class A."

"That's not so surprising." I slide into my jeans and loose necked sweater. I make my way to the door, stretching one arm up and leaning against the frame. She is looking down, index finger tracing the pattern of my comforter. Her eyes are hooded; she is miles away.

"The funny thing, is that I can't find what she's working on. It's classified. Even beyond my ability to get at it."

"I'm going out there." I take a few steps towards her. She looks up at me, worried.

"Sacha...she knows who you are Violet. You told me what she can do. I..." She reaches out and touches my scarred bicep. "I can't do much more than this."

"Yes you can." I cover her hand with mine, understanding the dual meaning of her words. My hand is bigger and it surprises us both. My words are whisper quiet. "I'm going and I'm going alone."

"You are not going alone!" Her shock and concern is very, very real. My lips tweak in a smile.

"But I _am_ going."

"You think you're clever, Violet."

"I am clever." I bend down, my face inches from hers. She swallows. "You and I both know Dash is too chatty and Petra is too timid for this. If I can get her to open up about the dog, maybe I can protect her."

"Alright. Fine. You'll be in radio contact." I watched her eyes flicker over me again, glassy. "I want you in your suit." Her voice drops, my stomach dropping with it. I bite back the whimper in my throat.

"What?"

"I mean you...You should wear your suit, under your clothes. Just in case." She blinks and looks away. I giggle and hold out my hand for her. She takes it and stands up, straightening her skirt.

"Have Dash and Petra keep two blocks back. Dash can get to me and back to Petra if there is any trouble."

"You're right."

"I've been waiting six days for you to say that." I flash her a smile. She stares at me for a moment before she laughs.

"Yes well, anyway. Consider this a trial mission." Mirage pushes her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear with deft, nervous fingers. She moves to the space between me and the door. "If everything goes well, I'll reinstate you."

"And what if it doesn't go well?" I shift forward, making her step back into the door. She swallows. I can see her lips twitching; she's giving it so much thought. The door swings open. She found the handle. I am not ready and topple forward. We fall to the ground. I pin her to the floor, one hand on either side of her face. I linger for longer than I should, memorizing every detail of this face. This is not Mirage. This want, this desire is whoever she really is. I get up and help her to her feet.

"I'm leaving in an hour. You should tell Dash and Petra to get ready. I'll go to the armory and get into my suit." I pause and watch her face melt. I like that she thinks I look hot in the suit. "Just in case." I don't give her an opportunity to respond. I just walk away.

. . .

The house is drab for a high level scientist but who am I to judge? The neighborhood is pretty nice and the grounds are expansive. I push the doorbell but I don't hear a ring. The panel falls away on the next push, exposing neatly cut wires. I push my sleeve by my mouth, clicking the radio.

"Ss. Signs of possible trouble. Hold position with Q for now."

"Roger MD." Dash's voice is firm but I can tell he's on edge. We won't get surprised this time. I knock hard on the door.

"Dr. Polinski?" I call, sounding too loud in the quiet suburb. The door opens quickly, hinges squealing like they haven't been used in weeks. A thin, pale hand snatches me by the collar and hauls me into the house and slams the door behind me.

"Be quiet will you? Want the whole world to hear you?" A hissing whisper brushes my cheek as the hand moves from my collar to cover my mouth. My eyes adjust to the dim lighting. I am being held by a startlingly thin woman dressed in a dirty lab coat; her hair dishevled, ratty and grey.

After a few moments of careful scruitiny, she releases me and shuffles deeper into her home. She mutters quietly to herself. I look carefully around the house. There are bags of trash stacked haphazardly by the back door, take out menus littering the face of the refridgerator. Her mail lay in neat stacks on the table top. It looks as if she hasn't left her home in a long time.

"Dr. Polinski?" I keep my voice down this time, appealing to her secretive demeanor. She appears in the hallway, watching me.

"Who are you?" her accent is thick, Polish maybe. I cringe watching her bite at her nails. I wouldn't think twice about writing her off as crazy. "Who sent you?"

"Dr. Polinski, I've come to talk to you about the dog." I open my palms in peace to her, subtly clicking the button to open my microphone. "The one you keep calling about?"

The laugh that issues from the frail woman is unsettling. She takes a wobbly step towards me, suddenly I can smell the booze on her.

"It's not a dog." She waggles her finger in my face. "I told the animal control but they laugh in my face. Are you here to laugh at 'Crazy Magda' too?"

"No I'm not here to insult you Doctor. I want to help you. If it isn't a dog, what is it?"

Suddenly I am pinned against the wall, her hands clutching my shirt tightly in her fists. Her eyes are wide in terror, so light blue they look almost clear. Her face is lined, prematurely aged. I try to keep calm and let her explain the best way she can.

"It is a girl. She watches me. Sometimes she is in the skin of a dog, or a cat or bird. I have seen her in my yard, standing like a statue. She waits until night. She becomes the hyena. She laughs at me and calls my name." Tears streak down her face. I try to keep control of my fear. I lift my hand and grip her shoulder tightly.

"You're going to come with me. I'm going to keep you safe okay?" I stare into her crystalline eyes, never more certain of my reasons for doing this job. She nods and I exhale, relieved that she trusts me. I loop my arm around her shoulders and guide her to the threshold.

"SS. Q. I'm exiting with the target. I will hold position until I make visual with you on the hill. Roger?"

"Roger," came the quick, tense replies. I scan the road until I spot Dash and Petra in the location I'd set for them earlier. The woman began to shake in my arms. I can tell she wants to turn back. I grip her hand reassuringly.

"It's alright. We can help you." We take a step out the door. She relaxes when nothing untoward happens. I wave to my team and continue walking. We are halfway to the others when shouting draws my attention. I look up, Dash is pointing frantically. I look behind me.

Sacha is standing in the open door of the doctor's home, staring directly at me. I am too far away for her to really see my face. I yank my suit hood over my head. Dash is at my side.

"Take her and wait for me at the rendezvous point." I keep my eyes on Sacha, who hasnt moved.

"Come on Vi.." I glare at him warningly. "Miss Disappear. You don't have to prove anything."

"We do. We have to prove to this woman that we can protect her, that we care enough to use our powers for what's right and not what is easy. Now go."

He scoops the woman up without further protest and zips away. I watch carefully as Sacha begins to run, gaining traction and speed beyond human ability. She leaps forward and I barely catch the transition from girl to beast: an enormous horned cattle I don't recognize. I shake my head and dig my heels into the ground, arms stretched wide and waiting. Time to test the matador inside.

The bull charges towards me, I grit my teeth and force myself to keep my eyes open. I activate the camera in my visor at the last moment. Someone should see this.

I throw my hands together, snaring Sacha in a large orb. A pivot has me facing the other way, hauling my catch over my shoulder. The connecting strand pulls taut. The bull hurtles toward the ground. I release the orb at the final moment. She hits the ground hard enough to shatter the pavement beneath her bulk. The pained groan from the creature covers my whoop of pride. I let the smile show on my face. I am a fighter now.

The bull gets to wobbly feet, huffing laughter before trying to charge again. I make another orb, attached to my hand like a flail. I swing at the beast, striking hard below the jaw and again across the back, driving it to its knees. I breathe heavily, adrenaline surging through my system. The bull shrinks in bulk, transforming into a deer and sprinting away before I can do much to stop her. I watch her long after she is gone, wheels turning in my head. Finally I turn and begin the trek to the rendezvous point. I can't help but think my victory was too easy.

. . .

I hang around the training room, punching out my frustration. I feel strange. I shouldn't want a fight to last. I shouldn't want to hurt someone else but Sacha stokes a competative violent fire in me I can't explain or ignore. I am disappointed and it's weird for me. My strikes get harder, the solid thumps drowing out everything but the roaring of my heart beat.

"Violet?" Her voice draws me out of my violent assault on the practice pad. The last hit surprises both of us as the dummy hits the floor hard; knocked off balance by the strength of my punch. I don't look at her right away, tossing her my stopwatch instead.

"Time me?" I jump to the start of the obstacle course. She walks over to me, her heels clicking on the floor. I take off, not really trying. I hit the obstacles haphazardly and hard. I hear her calling out to me but I'm still feeling weird so I sprint faster. Finally I get back to the front. She's standing there in her grey suit, arms crossed and concern dressing her face.

"What's up?" I snag a towel and hang it around my neck.

"I've settled Dr. Polinski in one of the dorm rooms. I gave her a sedative to help her sleep. Maybe she can give us a better picture when she's had some rest."

"That's good." I try to sound enthused but I don't have it in me. I pick at the legs of my training shorts, fussing with a loose thread.

"What's wrong?" I should have known she'd pick up on my malaise. I sigh and take a seat on the floor, pushing my hands into my hair.

"I let her get away," I growl bitterly.

"You did everything right Violet."

"I know, I just..." I huff, angry again. "Have you ever met someone you just, I don't know, knew was _fucking_ with you."

"You're probably right. Sacha is very dangerous and very intelligent." She doesn't flinch at my language.

"I just want to stop her; from hurting and terrorizing more people. I have to beat her." I turn shining eyes towards her, balling my hands into fists. "I want to kill her Mirage. That woman, she was so scared she couldn't even leave her home."

"I saw what you did today." Her voice is low. I put my eyes back on the floor.

"Yeah?" I take the distraction. I don't really know how to explain myself anyway. I'm surprised she isn't questioning my desire to kill someone...like its a perfectly normal thing for a hero to feel, to think about.

"You were incredible." I lift my eyes to hers. There's no hiding the spark between us now. I swallow hard.

"Yeah?" I can't take the adoration in her eyes; not while my skin itches with the need to finish what had started with Sacha. She puts a light hand on my arm, her face very serious.

"Violet, you were right...when you said it's the choice between what is right and what is easy." She swallows hard, her mask cracking with emotion I can't quite place.

"It's easy to give in to that. It's easy to kill someone; even for a Super who is supposed to do good. It's easy to look down at your enemy for the thirtieth time and think to yourself 'wouldn't everyone be better off if they were gone.' It's easy, when things get repetative, to make a decision to do something drastic, especially when the choice you always make is hard." Suddenly we aren't talking about Sacha anymore. I have the tiniest glimpse into her past, layered in cryptic wording. I wonder if she's ever seen Cascade struggle like this. Her understanding floors me. She is a marvel and the fact that she's even here is a testament to who she is on the inside.

"It meant a lot to me, to hear you say that. You remind me of your mother." I flinch and look away. I'd almost forgotten about that.

"Yeah. They taught me right." I bite my lip and shuffle a little.

"It's late. Can I meet you tomorrow for breakfast?" She looks hopeful.

"Yeah."

I watch her go. I slink behind her, following back to her room. I refuse to feel guilty as I watch her punch the code to her quarters. There's only one thing left to make her mine. I need to know her name.

I wait outside her door for an hour, maybe more. I think about removing my clothes but decide against it. I won't be more than a minute, I hope. They're all black anyway. I punch in the code to her door; my heart thuds hard in my chest. The door glides open on silent hinges. I slip inside and close it behind me. I wait, listening for any stirrings. The rooms are dark; it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the lighting. I hear a quiet sigh and freeze, biting my lip to keep my invisibility.

I creep forward to the end table where I can see the book resting. The sound of her heavy breathing seems so loud in this room. My fingers reach for the book, lifting it gingerly from the table. I almost wish I could make the book invisible but that would make it impossible to read. My heart stops beating. I open the front cover.

"Oh Violet," her voice breathes from the room adjacent. I freeze again but for entirely different reasons. My eyes are blind to lend me hearing. The deep breathing I mistook for sleep has taken on a desperate quality. I snatch a glance at the book, honestly surprised by the name I find there. I have to read it twice, just to make sure that's really what it says. Something inside me breaks. Once more the breathy sound of my name reaches my ears, accompanied by a sweet, low moan. I set the book back where I found it and creep to the door frame, eyes wide.

She is laying upon a small chaise at the end of her bed, silver hair thrown over the arm and still dressed in her beautifully tailored suit. I start my sweep at her eyes, clenched tightly in concentration. Her bottom lip is secured between perfect white teeth. The line of her throat twitches when she swallows down another moan. I find myself helpless to move, mesmerized by the sight of this woman come undone beneath her own hands at thoughts of me.

Part of me feels bad watching her like this but the bigger part of me begs to stay; to creep forward and claim her as mine. The big part wins for a moment. I am half way into her room without realizing it. An exquisite moan of pleasure issues from her throat. My body temperature flares.

She is so soft, her caresses gentle and slow beneath the seam of her pants that are just barely zipped. One of her hands moves up her blouse, pausing to tweak a stiff nipple through the fabric before moving upwards to the elegant column of her neck. I slide to a darker corner of the room, so very close to her. I could reach out and touch her if only I dared.

Her skin is glowing, flushed and beginning to sheen with her efforts. Quiet whimpers pass her lips to my ear, turning my insides to liquid. I barely make out words beyond the roaring of blood in my ears.

"Tell me, please say it Violet," she whines, arching her back off the chaise. I notice her hand slide lower into her trousers, her movements growing rapid and furious.

"You're so perfect. So beautiful." I don't realize I am whispering in her ear until after it's said. She makes a high pitched noise and moves faster, now pressing her body into the cushions beneath her. She doesn't seem to really hear me; she's so lost in her fantasy. I almost faint because she's thinking about me. She's like _this_ for me.

"Tell me how you want me Violet." I see spots. I lean closer to her, lowering my voice to the lowest of whispers. It doesn't feel like perving anymore.

"I've always wanted you. Just like this, still in your clothes. God, your fucking clothes. Those shoes you wear; you must know how sexy you are." She whines loudly, biting into the soft flesh of her finger hard enough to leave marks.

"I want more than that. I want you in a house we share together. Maybe this place you love so much." Now is as good a time as any to bare myself for her. My head is swimming. She gasps at my suggestion, breathing so heavily now. I want to touch her so badly it is nearly a physical pain. My fingernails bite my palm in restraint. Her hand picks up speed again, the rapid plunging of her fingers distracting me. I remember the name in the book and who she is, who she hides, is so clear to me now. I don't hold anything back. Anything less than this would disrespect that little name in her book, written in the precise hand of a serious child. "I want everything you are. I want so much to show you that you are loved."

"You..." A pealing cry rings in the silent room. "You love me?"

I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I can smell her and it's intoxicating. I let the pause drag for what seems like forever.

"Tell me." She whines again, taking a deep shuddering breath. "If...you, please tell me Violet." Her request grows loud, begging. I let my lips brush against her earlobe.

"I love you Jane."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello all. Life got in the way again. But may the Mirage POV chapter recapture you!**

Chapter 8

 _It starts with the towel. She drags me into her room with hands still wet from her hair. I am reluctant. I don't want anyone to see. Of course she says the right thing to make me ignore my sensibilities. I am sitting on her bed, waiting for her to dress. She beckons my attention._

 _She's not wearing the towel; or anything at all. The last bits of my resistance fail me. She's beautiful; her body taut and firm from the training she's put herself through. My eyes linger on the scars ripped across her arm. They add so much charm to this brave thing in front of me._

 _"Oh Violet." I can hardly breathe. I wet my lips at the sight of her. She smiles at me and it shoots straight into my gut, twisting so pleasantly. I haven't felt this way in so long. Not even when her mother kissed me. I whimper for her._

 _She approaches me slowly, taking her time to show me the exquisite musculature in her legs. She stands in front of me. She takes my face in her hands and kisses me. Her fingers brush the curve of my jaw. I part my lips for her eager, probing tongue. I open my mouth wider, drawing her in. She moans against my cheek, breaking the kiss for the briefest of moments before she devours me again. Electricity chases up and down my body, the frisson of arousal fanning the flame to a roaring inferno._

 _"Tell me, please say it Violet." Tell me because I cannot. Say it because I am afraid to. Tell me I'm yours. Make me yours._

 _"I want you. You're so perfect. So beautiful." Her voice is so quiet, a nervous whisper._

 _"Tell me how you want me," I beg her, aching for her to touch me. I want nothing more than to give her anything she asks of me; to let her show me what she can do to me. She flickers her eyes over me, I feel naked even though I'm not. She licks her lips. She leans closer, capturing my eyes with her own._

 _"I've always wanted you." Her hands reach my waist, pushing me down upon the bed. Her fingers trail upwards from my exposed navel to the open collar of my shirt. She slides her hand beneath my blouse, gently smoothing the skin on my chest. "Just like this, still in your clothes. God, your fucking clothes. Those shoes you wear; you must know how sexy you are?"_

 _I whine loudly, emboldened by her wandering touch, sliding between my breasts and deftly opening the clasp of my bra. Her lips touch mine again; so sweet and soft - gently exploring where no one has been in years. I feel her whisper upon my lips. "I want more than that. I want you in a house we share together. Maybe this place you love so much."_

 _I gasp; trying to imagine what it would be like to have her always. It would be extraordinary. I shake for her. I have never shaken for anyone. Her hand slides down my stomach, soft where hers is firm. She pauses just at the waist of my pants; pants I've never hated so much in my life. I close my eyes when her hand slips lower._

 _She gently slides two fingers inside of me. Her other arm supports my head. I cry out for her. Her whisper is so loud in my ear, I swear I can feel her breath on my cheek._

 _"I want everything you are. I want so much to show you that you are loved." She moves faster, deeper but so so gentle I feel like I will shatter into pieces._

 _"You..." I cannot keep it inside; I practically weep for her. The sheer idea that she could love_ me _\- not Mirage. Such an idea. If only I would let her. "You love me?"_

 _There is silence except for the gentle rustling of my trousers as she moves her soaking fingers to my neglected clitoris. She stills her hand. I_ feel _her lips upon my earlobe. My breath comes ragged in my throat. She runs her fingers along the side of my clit, I can feel my body tightening all at once; so ready for her answer. "Tell me. If...you, please tell me Violet."_

"I love you, Jane."

My eyes fly open. I catch the barest glimpse of her in my peripheral as my orgasm overrides every sense of warning, every thought of intrusion, every notion that she shouldn't be here. I fall back upon the chaise, chest heaving with the labor of breathing. I sit up carefully, rubbing the stars from my eyes. Finally I find the courage to look.

I am alone.

I grip the edge of the cushion until my hands ache. I can't tell if she was here or if it was my imagination. My head is spinning, my mouth is dry. Every part of me is overwhelmed by Violet. Guilt wracks my stomach; I shouldn't want her to be here...to see me like this. I bury my head in my hands.

It is obvious what is happening and I'm losing control of myself. I am giving in to infatuation with a girl half my age. A chime from the living area jerks me out of my stupor. I hook my fingers into the straps of my shoes, blushing, and slip them off.

I click open the small communicator I keep on my desk, dragging my fingers through my hair to straighten it. The N.S.A. logo flashes once before I am greeted with a fresh young face framed by short cropped ginger hair and a well tailored suit.

"Agent Mirage." His voice is clipped and terse as always. I supposed he doesn't fully trust me yet. Or he is the most serious young politician in the world.

"Director." I clear my throat once, tugging my shirt back into place. He lifts an eyebrow.

"Have I called at a bad time?"

"No sir, I was just retiring for the evening." I clench my hand tightly at my side, trying not to blush. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I understand you have recently come into custody of Dr. Magda Polinski."

"Yes sir," I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear. "She was under severe mental stress when we recovered her. I think a solid rest is in order before she can be properly debriefed."

"I have reassignment orders for her. As you well know, Dr. Polinksi is in possession of certain classified information. It is in her best interest to relocate to a facility with adequate psychological care." Straight to the point. I blink, surprised. He's right. I can't treat her properly here and I don't have proper clearance.

"Of course."

"I will forward the location of the facility you are to transport her to. Good night Agent." The transmission blinks off. I stare at the dark screen for a moment before closing the device and returning to my room. I sink heavily onto the bed. Part of me wants to cry; part of me wants to lay down and think of Violet. Its tempting.

I stand and change into night things; a soft pair of shorts and tank top before slipping beneath the comforter and switching off the light. I stare at the ceiling, unable to take my mind off her. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, rubbing vigorously until the image of her head thrown back in ectasy fled my fevered brain.

I shouldn't be feeling like this. Not even the thought of what her parents would say can keep the images away for long.

 _She's so young._

 _Who cares?_

 _Just once..._

 _Her mother would kill me._

 _No one has to know._

 _That's not fair._

The reality of the final thought cools the flame in me. It wouldn't be fair to seduce her, to take her and then balk at the idea of a relationship...of trust. Oh she would keep me so very secret. I couldn't possibly ask. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and beg for sleep to come, even knowing no amount of backpedaling can stop my dreaming.

. . .

I do not sleep well, plagued by sweet imaginings that can never be. I look at myself in the boudoir mirror across the room. Lines pull at the corners of my eyes and lips. Age is catching me; slower than most but the signs are all there. I meet my own eyes and resolve to end this little infatuation between us. I must be professional.

I rise and dress quickly, finding the most demure and bland clothes in my ensemble. Curse my good taste. I sit at the vanity, one hand entering the passcode for my email while the other sets out my face for the day.

I can't remember when I started wearing make up. The thought gives me pause. I frown at the delicate, numerous plastic trays of powder and paste. I look at myself in the mirror once more before I apply my makeup with a swift, practiced hand.

The woman who looks back at me is so different from the one before. I bite my lip, eyes stinging. I don't know when I started thinking of myself as two people...maybe it was time to stop all this 'hero' nonsense. The supers don't need humans to babysit them. Theres little we could do to stop them anyway.

I look at my face in the mirror and I tell myself _this_ is who Violet has feelings for. Not me...not the spindly, bookish girl I am on the inside.

' _I would prefer a bombshell to a sheaf of paper if I were her_ ,' I tell myself even knowing it's not true. I shake my head furiously and pull a brush harshly through my hair.

It is not lost on me that I fantasize about her knowing my name. I blush thinking about it again. _I love you, Jane._

My scalp stings with my efforts but my hair shines brightly for it. I give myself a final appraisal: I look like a professor, all greys and natural tones. I slip my glasses onto my nose because I don't feel up to contacts today. Hopefully this won't take long.

I pull up the missive containing the paperwork regarding the doctor's transfer. The ease of her recovery concerns me. Even with their new training...it shouldn't have been so easy. Transportation will arrive in two hours.

As I turn to exit my room I catch sight of the chaise; scene of my guilty feverish moment weakness. I swear I turn pink to my ears. Funny how she makes me feel so young about this. I step over to it, reaching out to straighten the dishevled pillows. My fingers brush aside a small bit of lint, a short dark hair.

My blood runs cold. I hold the fine black hair between my trembling fingertips, unable to fully grasp the knowledge slamming into me all at once.

 _It was on my clothes already...I hugged her when I left her didn't I?_

I can't remember. I don't have time to search my clothes for more. I take several deep breaths and try to calm down. It is just a coincidence. It's hard to believe but damn me if I won't try.

I swallow hard and slide into a pair of flat black shoes. I no longer have the energy for heels. I stride quickly for the door. With a final sigh, nervous Jane gives way to confident Mirage.

I have a job to do.


End file.
